


Pulsion

by Poplitealqueen



Series: Frisson [3]
Category: Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Darth Serenus, F/M, Fanart, Frisson AU, Gen, M/M, Qui-Gon Lives, Rako Hardeen episode arc, Sith Qui-Gon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-26
Updated: 2017-05-28
Packaged: 2018-07-10 08:02:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 22
Words: 64,917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6974578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Poplitealqueen/pseuds/Poplitealqueen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Obi-Wan must go undercover to foil a kidnapping plot against the Supreme Chancellor.</p><p>Complications unsurprisingly ensue. </p><p>(Because there's nothing like a Sith Lord who thinks the Jedi he shares a Life Bond with has been murdered.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Deception

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everyone! 
> 
> So this AU idea has been percolating for quite some time (if you're on my Tumblr, you probably know. Lord do you know) and I'm glad to say that it's finally becoming a fic. Well, a series, really. There's gonna be a lot of it. Because Qui-Gon not only living but becoming a Sith in the process tickles me in all the right ways.
> 
> *claps* Anyways.
> 
> This particular section is based on the Rako Hardeen arc in the Clone Wars -- one of my favorite arcs -- so quite a few lines in the fic will be from those episodes (at least for the first two chapters, once chapter three comes along the AU part of this really becomes apparent). I mostly just did this because I love the episodes, and when fanfic and canon blend like that it can make for a pretty awesome experience.
> 
> (Read: you start to forget what is actually in the episode/movie/book and what isn't, and that's just amazing.)
> 
> I will leave judgement on how well said blending is done in this instance to you, dear readers.
> 
> And with that said, I hope you enjoy! The next chapter should be up in the next two weeks, as long as life doesn't decide to throw a curve ball.
> 
> -Miss Pop
> 
> PS: If you are confused, that's natural. I'm taking a very fuck-for-all approach to posting parts of this AU. Meaning: Certain things will be referenced that will be explained with later fics. Patience is a virtue, fanfic is a vice, I'm providing one and politely asking for the other. All will be explained.

Obi-Wan can’t remember much about his “death”. Putting himself into a deep meditative trance shortly after hitting the pavement of the Coruscanti alley below, along with the vitals suppressor he had injected on the roof itself, had made him all _but_ dead to the world, after all.

He recalled Ahsoka, faintly, and Anakin as well. Then flashing lights as police and medical personnel arrived. The voices and sounds had all begun to fade together within his senses, but always, no matter how hazy, he had been aware of Anakin.

Bright, searing Anakin, who had carried his body all the way back to the Temple, and who would have likely entombed the corpse himself if the Temple forensics team hadn’t all but pried it from his arms for analysis.

That was when the switch had happened, or so Obi-Wan assumes. He had delved so deep into his own mind by that point that even sounds hadn’t been able to filter through.

It isn’t until a Force-bedamned medical droid pumps him full of an adrenaline shot that he comes fully awake, jerking up in the bio-bed so quickly that every crick along his spine screams in protest at once.

Obi-Wan’s face goes slack as he knuckles the small of his back. “Force, I’ve felt better after crashing a ship.” he mutters.

The droid beside him doesn’t respond and Obi-Wan side-eyes the shining syringe in its hand before looking around the makeshift medical theatre he now finds himself in. It’s altogether much too quiet, but the familiar sense of _home_ washes over him immediately.

There is something undeniably stupid about still being in the Jedi Temple even when he’s supposed to be dead, but there isn’t anything he can do about that. Sitting up to allow the droid to unfasten his tunics and pull off the blaster-proof vest beneath, Obi-Wan puts aside the sobering thought of knowing that somewhere close by his own funeral is being held, with a corpse bearing his name being buried with honors, and waits to be told what the hells he’s supposed to do next.

* * *

The corridor in which Mace and Yoda find themselves walking down is in a lesser used area of the Jedi Temple. Even if more than half of their Order wasn’t gone, there was still little chance they would have run into anyone else here as they walk side by side.

Mace is both grateful and perturbed by that fact. Not for the first time since the decision concerning Obi-Wan had been made, he senses a grave apprehension in the Force around him.

Although Yoda would never admit it, Mace knows more than half of it is coming from the diminutive Grandmaster.

“Having second thoughts, Master Yoda?” Mace finally asks, breaking the echoing sound of their footsteps.

Yoda hums, evading a straight answer. “Heading down a dark path, we are.”

“We talked about this,” Mace replies,“Killing a Jedi was the best move we had,” he adds on, more to himself than anything else.

Yoda hums once more, the sound heavy with rebuttal as they enter the makeshift surgical room.

“So, how was my funeral?” Obi-Wan asks cheerily the moment they’re in view.

Mace feels the aura of worry surrounding Master Yoda fade a bit, as the small master smirks back at Obi-Wan, “A better performance than you, your corpse gave.” he replies

“Whatever do you mean? I fell from the top of a building,” Obi-Wan says in mock offense, picking up the blaster-proof vest and holding it up for their inspection, “I could have have _killed_ myself.”

 _Of course._ Mace silently rolls his eyes as Yoda’s mirth drops like a stone. Obi-Wan, for all his vaunted oratory ability, is more adept at knowing exactly what _not_ to say in any given situation than what he _should_. Yet that’s exactly what makes him such a damned good negotiator.

And Obi-Wan is aware of it too, if the wry half-smirk on his face is anything to go by.

“Survived worse, you have,” Yoda responds, and in retaliation adds, “Young Skywalker knows this.”

Obi-Wan immediately sobers at the mention of his former Padawan as droids circle around him, and Mace crosses his arms at the change.

“I took the vitals suppressor as instructed,” Obi-Wan replies, defensively. “I was dead to the world when Anakin moved my body. There is no way he could know I was alive.”

“Not know, but sense he will that something is not right.”

Obi-Wan’s eyelids droop as he continues on stubbornly, “Keeping Anakin on the outside was critical,” he says, looking up at Mace for support. “Everyone knows how close we are. It was his reaction that sold the sniper. I’m sure of it.”

Mace is not about to pick sides in this argument.

“What’s done is done,” he says. “There will be more than enough time to argue the morality of it after your mission is done.” Neither Master balks under his pointed glare (Yoda never does, and Obi-Wan simply doesn’t care) but both subtly cease their dispute for the time being.

When Mace is satisfied, he breaks the silence, “We need to get your transformation underway.”

The barber-droid beside Obi-Wan whirrs its instruments to life, and Obi-Wan raises his eyebrows and leans back, “Well, time for a shave,” he says.

As the rotary razor begins to slide across his hairline, Obi-Wan looks sidelong at Mace, all business.“Tell me about my target.”

“His name is Moralo Eval,” Mace explains, pulling out a holoprojector and switching it on. The mugshot of a Phindian flickers on. “Works directly for Count Dooku and Serenus. Rumor is their plot will be hatched in three revolutions at the festival on Naboo. We tried to make a deal with Moralo for more details, but he was...uncooperative.”

“ _‘Jedi mind tricks don’t work on my kind’,_ I’m guessing?” Obi-Wan asks, sardonically.

Mace raises a warning brow at him as the blue-filtered hologram clicks off. “Good guess.”

“I’m positively riddled with them,” Obi-Wan says, leaning to the side as the barber takes off the last patch of hair behind his right ear, “Any details that might help me gain his trust while in prison?”

“Eval killed his mother when he was only a boy. Told the authorities he did it because he was _bored._ ”

For all that the Jedi are objective, none of them are able to keep their odium from bleeding out into the Force at such an act.

The droid moves to Obi-Wan’s facial hair next, but that certainly doesn’t stop Obi-Wan from adding in his two cents. “Hmm, I’ll try not to bore him.”

Yoda finally speaks again, ears jerking up in a surprising display of emotion in the tiny Master’s otherwise flippant facade. “Not a game this is, Obi-Wan. The risks, great they are.” he reproaches sharply.

Obi-Wan rubs curiously at his now bare cheeks, giving Yoda an obstinate look that Mace is convinced he taught to Skywalker.

“Yes, and so are the rewards,” Obi-Wan says, running his hand over his shaved scalp. “Besides preventing Eval from abducting the Chancellor, he could lead us to Grievous and possibly Serenus himself.”

Before either Mace or Yoda can comment on the fact that Obi-Wan had left Dooku out of his reasoning behind going through with the mission, the medi-droid interrupts.

“Facial transformation program loaded,” it states flatly.

Obi-Wan turns away from them both. “I take it there’s no way to have the Chancellor pull out of the festival?” he asks, taking the chance to change the subject.

Mace pins the subject of Serenus up for now (time really is a kriffing son of a Sith) and makes his way over to Obi-Wan as the younger man lays back on the bio-bed. He sends a mental question to Yoda, who responds in agreement, forced though it may be.

“No. See it as a sign of weakness, he would.” Yoda responds, all but rolling his eyes.

Obi-Wan sighs as he lays completely back. “Sign of weakness,” he mutters, _actually_ rolling his eyes. “Wouldn’t want that.”

One droid holds his head in place while another readies a wicked looking needle. Obi-Wan keeps his gaze locked away from the injection site, bottom lip jutting out in firm concentration.

The syringe plunges deep into the soft skin of his neck, and Obi-Wan’s body twitches in anticipation before the gleaming metal has even been fully removed. Aside from that, Mace is rather surprised by the lack of …well… _show._

 _Patience, former Padawan mine._ Yoda’s voice is loud and clear in his mind, and quite obviously excited. Mace will never understand his former Master’s penchant for morbid curiosity. He is worse than a youngling sometimes.

Suddenly, a hoarse, painful gasp slips out from between Obi-Wan’s teeth.

“Transformation initiated.” the droid drones, and Obi-Wan shakes as the serum hits his bloodstream like a slow-burning fire.

Obi-Wan groans and yells, thrashing on the bed as he clutches at his face. Mace attempts to hold hold in place only for the younger man to push him aside and twist upward. Mace only catches half a glimpse, but the sight of bones sloshing like water beneath the skin of Obi-Wan’s face is something he doubts he will ever be able forget.

When Obi-Wan’s convulsions finally stop, the surgical droid chimes in with a monotone: “Transformation complete.”

Obi-Wan pulls his hands away from his face slowly, gazing up at both of the other Masters. “Well, how is it?”

Mace wouldn’t have believed this was Obi-Wan if he hadn’t seen the transformation with his own two eyes. Everything, from the angle of his chin, to the shape of his eyes, to the faded tattoo across his forehead and down the left side of his face that looked it had been there for years, is as un-Obi-Wan as anything possibly could be.

Mace clears his throat. “Um…”

“Looked better, you have not.” Yoda jests, and Mace hides a smile in his fist.

“Mm, quite,” Obi-Wan isn’t as amused as he stretches his jaw, probing at the new, flatter shape of his nose and the sharp gauntness of his cheekbones. “By all means, Master Yoda, next time the pleasure is all yours.”

Yoda hums in answer as Obi-Wan gets to his feet.

“We should get going,” he insists, plucking at the front of his tunics. “The last thing we need is for “Jedi Killer Seen Running Around in Jedi Robes’ to be the next big headline on the HoloNet.”

Mace places a hand on Obi-Wan’ shoulder. “Patience. We still have one last stop before you get to go play the bad guy.”

* * *

 

They come to an out of the way corner in the old sublevels of the Temple, to what looks to be an abandoned medical center.

Broken, outdated equipment lays about gathering dust, and in the center of it Master Healer Toba Yon sits reading a datapad.

“About bloody time,” the blue Gungan says as soon as they are within earshot. He sets the datapad down on a box and rises to his feet, taller even than Mace, “I was beginning to think this was some attempt at a practical joke.”

“Time and place, Master Yon,” Obi-Wan says, sketching a quick bow.

Toba Yon’s gaze slides over him, the disdain plain on his face.

“If you weren’t broadcasting your Force signature as loudly as possible, I would call that a fantastic disguise.”

The smile Obi-Wan gives him hurts his freshly transformed face. This particular healer is famed for his caustic attitude, and for his ability at building and breaking mental shields. Unfortunately, there is not a way to have one without the other.

Mace saves him from having to formulate an answer, luckily.

“That’s what you’re here for, Master Yon,” he gestures with his eyes down at the boxes. “We really do need to hurry this along. Time is of the essence.”

“Quite, quite,” Master Yon flicks his hand around as he retakes his seat. “Don’t bother to make yourselves at home among the dust and the relics, this shan't take that long.”

Obi-Wan takes a seat on the box directly opposite the Gungan healer, while Mace remains standing with his arms crossed and Yoda perched high near his shoulder.

“Has there been any activity from your bond with the former Master Jinn?” Toba asks shrewdly.

Obi-Wan suddenly feels three pairs of eyes boring into him, and the feeling is far from pleasant. He subconsciously probes at the link that he’d had Toba Yon sever. It had hurt for a time, but that had been months ago. The only thing he ever gets from it now is a cold sort of numbness.

“None at all.” he answers truthfully.

Toba exhales, mustache tentacles swaying with the exhalation. “I suspected as much, but it never hurts to follow up with my patients.” he points a finger at Obi-Wan. “I expect a complete evaluation when you’ve returned.”

Obi-Wan sighs. “Of course. Now, may we please--?”

“Good. And we’ve already begun.” One of Toba’s eye stalks straighten up derisively. “Your barriers are absolute rubbish.”

Obi-Wan blinks, and true to Master Yon’s words, a distinctly foreign presence is now wrapped around his mind. It’s bare and thin, but powerful enough that it worries Obi-Wan that he hadn’t noticed it being built sooner.

“Master Windu _did_ say time was of the essence.” Toba adds with a shrug at Obi-Wan’s expression. “I’m simply trying to quicken the pace. Apologies for not asking permission.”

Obi-Wan gives one sharp nod of his head, and Master Yon continues.

“The shielding I have put in place will effectively make you look like another person entirely within the Force, but it will require some attention on your part as well, Master Kenobi,” he explains. “Go on, raise your shields like we practiced before.”

Obi-Wan nods again and closes his eyes in deep concentration. When he opens them again, Mace lets out a low whistle.

“Damn.”

Yoda’s ears droop in disdain, but his eyes are sparkling with relief. “Done well you have, Master Yon.”

The blue-skinned Otolla inclines his head, emerald eyes sagging with exhaustion.

“Appreciation, Master Yoda, but most of that is Master Kenobi’s doing. I’ve simply set the framework.”

“That means it will keep Serenus out of his head?” Mace asks.

“It will keep _any_ Force Sensitive from recognizing his signature immediately,” answers Toba. “But it isn’t all powerful. Particularly strong links, like the one you share with Knight Skywalker, Master Kenobi, may well manage to slip through if you’re exposed to one another for too long.”

“I won’t be anywhere near Anakin.” Obi-Wan says tersely.

Toba watches him with his long hands clasped in his lap. Obi-Wan knows that look. Toba Yon is analyzing him as much as he had been that datapad.

“He isn’t the only one you share a powerful connection with, Obi-Wan.” Mace says, his tone polite yet firm.

Obi-Wan squares his jaw. He’s been weary of this argument for weeks.

“I will not be anywhere near Serenus, either, Force willing. And if I am, I will not allow what we once shared to be a detriment to myself or to this mission.”

The Gungan Healer regards him askance.

“Do mind yourself. I may not possess much in terms of self-preservation myself, but I could do without the Force-induced migraines that your shields being forcibly broken would cause me,” Master Yon says, his pale-blue haillu jerking at the mere thought. “Paperwork is tedious enough without them.”

That seems to break the tense atmosphere that had settled around them, and Obi-Wan twitches out another smile as he rises to his feet. Yoda does as well, along with Mace who pushes off from the wall he had been leaning against.

“Far be it from me to inflict such torture upon you, Master Yon.” Obi-Wan says in a teasing voice.

“You are damned correct about that.” Master Yon counters, his haillu sliding down his thin shoulders as he inclines his head to the three of them. “May the Force keep you from doing anything too overtly foolish, Obi-Wan. I see enough Fallen or dead Jedi in the Halls already; I’d hate for you to be among them.”

Obi-Wan bows to hide his smile. This was the closest anyone could come to getting words of encouragement from Toba Yon. “And you as well.”

* * *

 

They take a small, unassuming speeder out of the Temple -- one that can easily blend in with the traffic as they fly down into the lower levels of Coruscant.

Mace takes the wheel, while Obi-Wan sits in the back alongside a surprisingly quiet Yoda. Obi-Wan would have thought the older Master would take this chance to hash out their argument from before, but he only remains silent.

It puts Obi-Wan more on edge than any heated argument ever could.

His thoughts trail off to Anakin, and all the others that would be affected by his death. And, inadvertently, Obi-Wan begins to wonder if Serenus has heard of it yet.

If he has, Obi-Wan doesn’t expect his old Master to care. After what had occurred on Toydaria between them… Would Qui-Gon celebrate the news of his death, or be angry that _he_ hadn’t been the one to kill his former apprentice?

Obi-Wan doesn’t expect his old Master to care, and yet he finds himself hoping that he just might.

Yoda’s gentle voice pierces his thoughts. “Worried about Serenus, you are.”

Obi-Wan doesn’t realize he’s been frowning until his scowl deepens, and his reconstructed face aches with the movement.

“Partly,” he says. “But after what occurred the last time we met, I highly doubt he has much of an urge to see me again...aside perhaps from wanting to run me through with his lightsaber.”

Obi-Wan offers Yoda a jagged smile, but the Grandmaster doesn’t return it, instead tapping at the floor of the transport impatiently with the end his gimer stick.

“Keep Serenus occupied, we will, if need be. But careful you _must_ be, Obi-Wan.” Yoda peers up at him intently, until Obi-Wan feels like every layer of him is being opened up and scrutinized. “Something dangerous for you, I sense. Turn you to the Dark Side he can, if too near to him you go.”

Obi-Wan is slightly insulted by the small Master’s accusation, but he swallows it down and sighs. If their roles were reversed, he doesn’t doubt that he would worry about the exact same thing.

“He has already tried to turn me before, Master Yoda, and it did not work.” Obi-Wan feels his face twitch of its own volition for a moment, before the muscles settle down once more. “If he attempts to do so again, it will not work again. And that’s only if he manages to find out I’m still alive, which he will not. As long as you and Master Windu keep to your end of the bargain and keep him busy while I’m undercover.”

Mace glances over his shoulder from the driver’s seat, and his look is much more relaxed than Yoda’s.

“Is that a challenge, Kenobi?”

Mace seems to be enjoying this almost as much as Obi-Wan is, and Obi-Wan is glad for it. He doesn’t want to venture into this mission assuming the worst will happen.

“Only if you wish it to be, Windu.”

Yoda, who had quieted down in pensive thought, perks up again as their speeder lands in the alley beside the chosen meeting place with Hardeen: a decently-sized cantina.

“Dangerous, this will be. Unnecessary risks, you must not take, Obi-Wan.”

If Anakin were here, he would have made sure to point out how hypocritical that statement was, but he isn’t. Remembering that makes Obi-Wan’s heart sink heavily in his chest, but he pushes the pain aside. Anakin will understand, as soon as this mission is over. Obi-Wan will sit him down and explain exactly why he’d been kept in the dark, and Anakin _will_ understand and he _will_ forgive him.

He hopes.

Obi-Wan forces a chuckle as he swings himself out of the speeder after Mace. “Master Yoda, when have I ever?"

Yoda moves to the driver’s seat, setting in the autopilot to take him back to the Temple, and giving Obi-Wan one hard thunk on his arm with his gimer stick in answer before lifting off.

Mace scowls at the rapidly disappearing form of the airspeeder, dark eyes reflecting the flashing neon sign marked _“Trueping’s”_  above the cantina’s entrance. “Looks like I’ll be taking the public transport back,” he grumbles.

* * *

 

Their designated meeting place is a derelict storage closet turned bedroom in the back of the cantina.

It isn’t long before Rako Hardeen is led there, and Obi-Wan speaks to him from a chair in the corner of the room..

“Well done, Mr. Hardeen. You did precisely the job we hired you for. We have your credits right here.” Obi-Wan catches the greedy gleam in the bounty hunter’s eyes, so before the other man can pounce upon his payment, he makes sure to add: “But first, we need one more thing.”

Obi-Wan stands, and it would be remiss to say that he didn’t enjoy the look of shock on Rako Hardeen’s face when he steps out of the shadows.

“Your clothes.”

“What the fuck?” Hardeen starts moving backwards, hand scrabbling at his belt for an absent blaster, only for Mace to stop him before he reaches the door with one hand on his back. When his gaze locks with the other Jedi Master’s, Hardeen eyes widen in realization.

“You’re Jedi.”

Obi-Wan smiles. “Precisely.”

***

“--so I took off in my speeder and then I got a ride here.” Hardeen tugs at the bindings securing him to the chair. “That’s it. You can take me to prison now.”

Mace acts like he doesn’t hear the bound bounty hunter. “Keep talking, into this,” he says, holding up the vocal recorder a little closer to Hardeen’s mouth.

Hardeen glares at it, then at Mace. “This is stupid. Confessing to a murder I didn’t even do!”

“Oh, but you did.” Obi-Wan steps out from the side room completely garbed in Rako Hardeen’s clothing. It’s thick, worn material, yet surprisingly comfortable. He isn’t sure whether he should be glad or worried that the clothing of a Jedi-killer fits him like a glove. “For all intents and purposes, Obi-Wan Kenobi is dead, and that certainly was your intention.” He finishes adjusting one of the gauntlets and turns to Mace with his arms open for scrutiny. “How do I look?”

“Like a criminal.” Mace answers. “Should buy you all the credibility you need in prison.”

“Kriff, what the fuck is this.” Hardeen’s eyes dash between Obi-Wan and Mace, his voice taking on a more panicked edge. “Look, I don’t know what you guys are up to, but--”

Obi-Wan interrupts him with no remorse. “Do we have enough recording?”

“I believe so.” Mace looks over at Hardeen, and his next words reverberate through the Force. “Which means you can go to sleep now.”

Hardeen isn’t mentally strong enough to fight the suggestion, and it’s not even a minute before he’s unconscious, with his head hanging limply over his chest. Even deeply asleep, his fear is like a frigid wind in the Force.

Obi-Wan may almost have felt sorry for the man, but that would need to come later. He looks down at Mace and the metallic orb in his hand.

“So are you finally going to tell me how this thing works?” he asks, as Mace stands and activates the emulator’s secondary function with one clockwise twist.

“Well,” Mace begins as the droid suddenly springs to life with six legs and crawls from his palm to Obi-Wan’s. It makes its way across Obi-Wan’s forearm and up to his chest. The older Master has a decidedly smug smile on his face, and Obi-Wan wonders just how uncomfortable this next part is going to be. He soon finds out. “You swallow it.”

Obi-Wan takes a deep breath. “I was afraid you’d say that.”

He picks the writhing thing up and deposits it into his mouth. For a moment, as it crawls down the inside of his throat, scraping at the tender flesh, it’s like he’s being strangled from the inside out. Once the droid has finally settled, however, there isn’t any pain; just a heavy, unnatural weight where his chest meets his neck and a slight lump that he can hide beneath his clothing.

That thing was going to bloody hurt coming back out.

“What an odd sensation.” Obi-Wan’s voice cracks when he speaks, deepening with each word. “It will take some getting used to.”

“That’s a luxury you don’t have.”

Obi-Wan draws a hand over his chin, missing the familiar brush of his beard. “I hope this works.”

Mace dips his head in a nod as unties Hardeen, pushes his helmet onto his head, and throws the man over his shoulder with a huff.

“Where will he go?” Obi-Wan finds himself asking as he fiddles with one of the clasps on his vest.

“Private confinement on one of the moons until all this nonsense is over with,” Mace grunts as he fishes out a comm from his tunics and inputs some commands. “Droids and I will take him up. That way, he won’t be recognized, and you can be picked up nice and quiet.”

“Pity. I was rather hoping for some fantastic blaster fight.” Obi-Wan jokes softly.

Mace chuckles. “Don’t jinx it. We’d all like this to go as smoothly as possible.”

A faint frown touches Obi-Wan’s face at those words.

“Do you think what Master Yoda said could truly happen?” he asks. “Is this a mistake?” he adds, a little softer.

Mace makes a point of keeping his gaze firmly locked onto his comm until an all clear flashes across the screen. When that happens, he clicks it shut and sighs.

“I firmly believe any hold Serenus has over you is nothing compared to your own stubbornness,” Mace hefts Hardeen up a little higher, giving Obi-Wan one of his rare, full smiles. “Besides, you said so yourself that he doesn’t want anything more to do with you.”

“I suppose I did.” Obi-Wan says uncertainly. “But in the event that worse does come to--”

Mace holds up a hand to silence him. “It _won’t.”_ he says, with a surprising amount of certainty for the usually pessimistic Master of the Order. “If we’re lucky, you won’t even have to leave Coruscant, and I doubt that Serenus would be able to make his way here without someone catching him.

Obi-Wan tugs his vest into place one final time. Force, but the clothing would take more getting used to than the vocabulator.

Mace ducks his head and makes for the door. “May the Force be with you, Obi-Wan.”

Obi-Wan responds the same, before his eyes wander to the case of credits that he had nearly forgotten about.

“What should I do with those?” he asks Mace’s back.

The humor in Mace’s voice is unmistakable. “You’re in a bar, and you’re celebrating. Shouldn’t be too hard to think of something.”

* * *

Lord Serenus, once a celebrated Master of the Jedi Order, makes his way across a Separatist encampment to find the Commander that he had been sent to work with -- a pudgy Neimoidian with purple lips -- guffawing.

“My lord!” he cheers as soon as he spots the tall Sith walking over. “Have you heard the news?”

Serenus keeps his distaste out of his voice. The Neimoidians glee is animal fat in the Living Force, oily and slick. “I’m afraid I have not.”

The Commander’s red eyes squint merrily. “Then it must be my pleasure to inform you that the Negotiator is dead! I have only just heard the news myself. Obi-Wan Kenobi was killed on Coruscant not a week past. Ha!”

There is not often a time when Serenus’ voice is not gruff, but if one who knew him well had stood on that battlefield with them, they would have been able to notice instantly the spark of furious grief in his low tone.

“Who did it?” was all he finally asks.

“Unfortunately,my sources didn’t know. The Republic is keeping it tightly under wraps, but, “ the Neimoidian waves a thick-wristed hand. “It was some bounty hunter with a sniper or other,” he titters. “If I did know their name, rest assured I’d have them paid triple what they already were!”

Serenus does not respond.

“But enough banter,” the Neimoidian continues on. “We have work to finish here. You had better finish your raid upon the last of that Republic encampment today. I--”

The mottled grey of his throat turns as purple as his lips as Serenus lifts the Neimoidian up through the Force.

“My assignment will be completed before the hour is through, Commander.” Serenus tells the bulging-eyed face, before curling in his thick fingers and waiting for an audible _pop!_ before allowing the corpse to slide from his grasp.

Sidious won’t be pleased about that, and neither will Dooku, but Serenus is not particularly bothered by that. He completes his assignment before half a day’s cycle is through, and makes his way towards Coruscant undeterred.

* * *

  
Anakin’s first words to Ahsoka after Obi-Wan’s murder are: “Let's go, Snips. They found him.”

Ahsoka doesn’t ask who or why, at least not at first; she can tell just by the way her Master moves through the halls ahead of her like a storm towards the Temple’s hangar bay that asking politely wouldn’t get her any answers at the moment.

She can make a pretty good guess, though.

Ahsoka catches Anakin’s arm before he climbs into the first of two one-man speeders he had managed to wrangle from the Temple’s shipmaster with a well-timed scowl.

“It’s Hardeen, isn’t it? Skyguy? C’mon, tell me. I don’t even know where we’re going!”

“There’s no time, Ahsoka!” Anakin snarls, then in a milder tone. “Sorry. I learned from Master Yoda that Hardeen was spotted in a cantina in the Slum District.” Ahsoka feels his arm tense beneath her hand. “I let that slime escape me once. I won’t let it happen again.”

Ahsoka releases his arm. “Then let’s go catch us a slimeball.”

***

“I still don’t understand,” Ahsoka says through the transport’s comm. “Did Master Yoda say how they found the sniper?”

Anakin’s voice echoes through her cabin, sounding far angrier than Ahsoka had ever heard it before. “Who cares? All that matters is they did.”

Ahsoka doesn’t think so. It seems odd, that Master Yoda would simply know. Who had tracked Hardeen? And why had it taken until now to finally send someone to arrest him?

Before she can bring that up to Anakin, however, they’re landing in a graffiti-frescoed alley beside a cantina, and Anakin is out of his cockpit before Ahsoka has even unbuckled herself.

Her Master’s fury feels like it's settling on her skin, soaking into her and coaxing Ahsoka’s own anger. She remembers Obi-Wan’s lifeless body, and memories of carrying his corpse in her arms flash through her head. But they they don’t belong to her; they’re Anakin’s, accidently pushed through their training bond.

Ahsoka quietly nudges the link, and Anakin flits one apologetic glance down at her before blocking up the bond. She can still feel it like a storm on the horizon, but she doesn’t say anything more about it as they enter the bar.

Trueping’s cantina isn’t as crowded as most cantinas on Coruscant. The blue and purple neon lights give the dark bar a pulsating, headache-like atmosphere. Anakin hates it here as soon as he steps over the threshold.

The cantina inhabitants pause to look over at the two very obvious Jedi. Neither Ahsoka nor Anakin had bothered to attempt to hide their lightsabers, and as the entire place quiets down and focuses on them, Anakin ignites his.

There are a few gasps, and the Anacondan bartender growls from his nest.

“Where is Rako Hardeen?” Anakin demands.

The bartender gives him a dirty look as he answers. “Back room.”

Anakin glares in return, and clicks off his ‘saber before he and Ahsoka make their way towards the back. If the bar inhabitants give them a terrified, wide berth, Anakin doesn’t bother to care.

***

The back room reeks of booze and stale vomit, and splayed across the narrow bunk is a single man in faded vest. He isn’t moving.

“Is he dead?” Ahsoka asks, crinkling her nose in disgust.

Anakin’s cracks his flesh hand on his mechno one. “He’s about to be.”

Rako Hardeen coughs as he is rolled over, and his expression is glazed and unfocused as he looks up at Anakin.

“Hn?” Spittle gathers at the corners of his mouth as his head lols. “A _Jedi?_ I already killed a Jedi today…” he rolls back onto his side, digging his face into his arm. “Lemme sleep.”

“He’s not dead. _He’s drunk_.” It’s like there is sharp crack in the Force, and suddenly Anakin can’t even pretend to contain his rage.

 _“Get up, you filth!”_ he yells, lifting the smaller man off of the bare mattress and slamming him into the wall.  Hardeen’s eyes snap open, and he squints at Anakin like he isn’t sure where he is. Anakin presses his face in close, so that Hardeen has no choice _but_ to look at him in his drunken stupor.

“If it were up to me, I would _kill_ you right here!” Anakin snarls. “But lucky for you, the man you _murdered_ would rather see you rot in jail.”

Anakin considers, for longer than a second, to simply kill Hardeen right then and there. It would be easy. Ignite his lightsaber, bury it hilt deep in the man’s gut or his head. His fingers begin to twitch towards his belt, when he notices Hardeen’s eyes staring off over his shoulder.

Ahsoka.

Anakin can’t believe that he’d nearly forgotten she was there with him, and as his anger begins to cool he can feel her trying to keep quiet along their bond. But it’s easy to notice her own anger, and her confusion. Confusion that could almost be fear. _Of him._

He sighs, forcing himself to calm down. “Now let's go, you coward,” he hisses, dragging Hardeen away from the wall and locking his arm behind his back, “before I change my mind.” He leaves the room with Ahsoka trailing silently behind.

 

* * *

 

As soon as they’ve rid themselves of Hardeen, Anakin climbs into his transport and sits there for a few moments, jaw twitching and hands pressed together stiffly in his lap.

Ahsoka makes her way over to his instead of getting into her own, looking up into his cabin in concern. She can feel an acute sense of unease radiating from him, like ripples in a dark pond.

“Master, are you okay?”

“I’m fine.”

Anakin glances down and gives her a smile that looks about as real as his right hand. To anyone that doesn’t know him, he looks composed, but his eyes betray his emotions as easily as any action ever could. Ahsoka crosses her arms, and waits.

The smile withers and falls. “I’m _fine_ , Snips. Honest...” Anakin tries once more, but Ahsoka only raises both of her brows in silent skepticism, and he huffs. “No. I’m not, actually."

Ahsoka clambers up the fuselage and leans over the cockpit coaming.

“Is it about Obi-Wan?”

Anakin sighs, running a hand down his face. The dark bags under his eyes are even more pronounced than they’d been at Obi-Wan’s funeral, giving him a haggard, bitter, old as space dust type of look. Ahsoka doesn’t even want to try and guess how it’s been since he last slept.

He answers her question with another question. “Did you sense it?”

Ahsoka is instantly alert, a habit honed from too many months on the battlefield that she can’t quite seem to shake, even when she’s back safe on Coruscant. “Sense what?” she asks.

A frown appears in the skin between Anakin’s eyebrows, and there’s a bright, searing flash of pain from him that’s so intense that the Force shivers with it. Ahsoka feels a prickle behind her eyes, and dashes her wrist quickly under them to brush away the sudden tears.

She isn’t quick enough for Anakin not to notice, and before Ahsoka can say anything, the renegade emotion is bottled up, shoehorned it into a part of Anakin’s mind that their training bond can’t touch.

“With Hardeen,” says Anakin, pointedly ignoring the lapse in his shielding from a moment before. “He felt familiar to me. Like I knew him,” Anakin’s eyes gleam. “For a second, back in that cantina, I thought I sensed Obi-Wan,” he confides to her softly, before anger crests within him once more and he slams a fist into the side of the cockpit, repeating the movement with each word, “but it was only that _filth._ That _murdering_ , _Hutt-sucking_ , _piece of_ \--!”

Ahsoka touches his shoulder lightly, and when Anakin jolts out of his tirade to look at her, there must have been something in her face, something that tells him just how painful it is to see him like this, because Anakin’s face relaxes. Ahsoka can feel him forcing his rage away with sheer willpower, and that ferocious, vengeful glint in his eyes fades along with it.

Anakin unclenches his hand before putting it over her’s, patting it a couple of times before letting his gloved palm rest over hers.

“Sorry, Snips,” he says. “It’s… hard. Knowing he’s gone. But I’ll get over it, so don’t wo--.”

Ahsoka cuts him off by surging forward, catching him in an embrace. Anakin hesitates before returning it, wrapping his arms around her. With each passing moment they tighten a little more, until he’s nearly crushing her with how strongly he’s holding on.

Ahsoka doesn’t mind. She likes this. Not only does she feel safer, but this had to help Anakin too, right? It was the best she could do. She wasn’t Master Obi-Wan.

Ahsoka can’t help it. She sniffles at remembering, throat constricting.

A hand runs down her back lekku soothingly, and Ahsoka can hear the smile in Anakin’s voice. “You’re getting a bit old to be crying on your instructor's tunics, little one.”

Ahsoka swallows down a laugh, squishing her nose against Anakin’s neck and hiding her face until the tears have all dried up. “...Shut up. You should be crying, too.”

“I’m fine, Ahsoka. Promise,” Anakin gives her an easy, self-assured smirk as she pulls away and rubs at her eyes. “Better?”

She nods, and he cocks his thumb over to her ship, not even bothering to look as he begins the ignition sequence of his own with his other hand. The fighter buzzes to life beneath them both. “Well, then you better hurry, or I’ll take off with you clinging to the side.”

“You would not.” Ahsoka smiles crookedly back at him, hopping down and heading to her own transport. Anakin has already taken off by the time she gets into the cockpit and starts strapping herself in.

 _Make it quick, Snips!_ Anakin’s voice rings loudly over their bond. _We’re taking the long way back to the Temple. I need to get this entire kriffing day out of my system. I think some of that drunk’s stench rubbed off on me._

Ahsoka preps her engines, fires them on, and guides her fighter under Anakin’s in a low corkscrew. She can sense his approval at the unnecessary aerial acrobatics.

_A shower at the Temple might help. Or five._

_Ha._ Anakin’s ship comes zooming over hers, doing a dramatic spin. _Good idea, Padawan. I’ll race you there._

* * *

If there is one thing that every Force wielder -- regardless of creed -- will ever do at least once in their lifetime, it’s cure themselves of inebriation.

Obi-Wan knows he probably shouldn’t have drunk as much as he had, but he’d needed to get rid of the credits _somehow_. It wasn’t as if he would allowed to keep them in prison.

And perhaps he had needed it. There was no getting past that.

On the trip to prison, crushed behind a taciturn Anakin, Obi-Wan purged his body of toxins. His muddled mind quickly cleared, but he kept up the facade of being trip-over-your-own-boots sozzled until Anakin landed the transport and all but threw him out onto a durasteel landing deck.

Obi-Wan had been coherent enough when to recognize them when Anakin and Ahsoka had shown up. Damn the old troll for doing that to them _and_ to him. Obi-Wan had seen (and felt) the fury within Anakin like a red-hot poker to the gut, and the fear masked as bluster in Ahsoka.

Obi-Wan is more than aware that Anakin can hate as intensely as he can care, but to have that bitterness aimed at _him_ is something altogether new and horrific that he never wishes to experience again.

Something, a niggling in the Force or his own intuition, tells him that will not likely be the case.

The Republic Judiciary Central Detention Center is a large, mushroom-shaped building located in the midst of the hustle and bustle of Coruscant’s main city. What it lacks for in poor placement, Obi-Wan thinks, it makes up for in security.

As soon as Obi-Wan is transferred from Anakin to the Commander Fox and his fellow clone guardsman, he is led down a long, off-grey corridor with little more than oppressively bright lights and guards at every corner until they reach the end: a panopticon dotted with shielded prisoner cells, with a centrally placed command center from which the guards can watch every single one of their inmates at once.

He’s taken into the central module first. Stripped, searched, inputted into the prisoner database, and given a scratchy orange jumpsuit emblazoned with the number **019.**

And that’s that. Efficient. Clinical. He’s given a temporary holding cell to sleep off his hangover before he’s released into GP. He spends the time meditating instead.

The next day in the prison mess hall -- a round room meters below the panopticon of holding cells, with eight long, metal tables branching off from a red circle painted on the floor -- Obi-Wan is introduced properly to the mad world of the malefactors.

In all but a few regards, it isn’t all that different from everyday life.

A spew of opaque, yellow glop lands on his tray, and Obi-Wan actually finds himself missing the commissary food back in the Jedi Temple. It may have tasted terrible, but at least it had _looked_ like food.

As he makes his way towards the nearest empty seating area, he’s hassled with with whispers from all around: “That’s him.”; “Kenobi’s killer.”; “Rako Hardeen.”;“He doesn’t look so tough.”;“He killed a Jedi.”

Obi-Wan puts on a foul expression, pretending not to notice as one particular inmate -- a Phindian -- trails his gaze after him.

Obi-Wan sits at an empty corner, and attempts a bite of the prison gruel.

He regrets it immediately, and sticks to poking at the quivering globs with his prong instead, eating anything he can at least recognize. He expected to be confronted by now. Luckily, he doesn’t have to wait long.

“That’s him? That’s the Jedi killer?”

A fearsome-looking Karkarodon alone with a smaller companion  walk over to where he sits, with the Karkarodon setting his hands on the table and leaning in uncomfortably close. He grabs Obi-Wan’s cup in one long-fingered hand, beady black eyes sliding over him. casually challenging. “He doesn’t look so tough.”

When Obi-Wan doesn’t react to the bait, the Karkarodon takes a swig of his drink and throws it aside with a growl, bearing razor teeth. He jabs a finger into Obi-Wan’s chest.

“You don’t look so tough to _me._ ”

Obi-Wan pulls the prong from his mouth. “This food tastes terrible,” he says, face impassive as he twirls the fork in his hand, and without choreographing a single move, he buries it deep into a finned, grey hand.

The scaled creature jolts back with a loud roar that echoes through the mess hall, turning more than a few heads. This is Obi-Wan’s chance.

Without even turning his head, he pinches the vulnerable area around the other inmates gill slits and pulls him close enough to whisper:

“Maybe _you’d_ taste better.”

The Karkarodon lets out a terrified gasp, and in a single instance his bravado is gone. He attempts to pull away, only for Obi-Wan to grip the handle of the prong and twist it.

“You’re fucking _insane!”_ whimpers the Karkarodon.

“And you’re fucking annoying,” Obi-Wan responds. “What sauce do you think would go best with you?”

A shout from the guardsman’s walkway high above him interrupts him before he continue, and Obi-Wan raises his voice in answer as he releases the inmate.

“Sorry, just playing with my food.” Obi-Wan smirks up at the Karkarodon as he composes himself and tears the fork from his hand.

“You’re crazy!” he snarls, already running off with his hand cradled against his chest.

His companion, who up until that point had done nothing but watch, adds in a vehement, _“Poo shan ika!”_ before racing after him.

Obi-Wan goes back to eating, making himself look surprised when Moralo Eval slides into the seat across from him. The Phindian’s mad, yellow eyes squint at him assessingly as he offers up a smirk nothing short of a leer.

“Rako Hardeen, your reputation precedes you.” he says, waving his hand around before leaning in close. “I’m curious, when you killed that Jedi, was it for money or revenge?”

“I dunno.” Obi-Wan looks down into his bowl. “Guess I was bored.”

Eval chuckles, not taking his eyes off of Obi-Wan’s mouth as his lips close around the edge of the bowl and drain the last of its contents. Some unseen thing seems to break his concentration, and Eval leans back and grabs a nearby bottle.

“Try the sauce,” he says, sliding it across the table. “It makes that slop _almost_ tolerable.”

He stands  to leave before Obi-Wan can get another word in edgewise, though he does pause to allow his eyes to linger on Obi-Wan’s hand as it wraps around the bottle. If his train of thought were any more obvious, Obi-Wan thinks, even a Force-null would be able to sense it.

“I’ll be seeing you, Mr. Hardeen.”

***

Nothing else overtly exciting happens for the rest of the day cycle. Obi-Wan doesn’t see Eval again, nor is he heckled by any other inmates. In fact, it seemed as if he had gone and gained himself a status as someone not to mess around with.

It is a surprisingly relaxing position to be in, all things considered.

A short time after the lights out signal is called and all the prisoners are returned to their respective cells in the panopticon, Obi-Wan is lead onto a (rather dingy looking) repulsor platform with two guards that drifts over to a seemingly random cell near the bottom. That sets off alarms in Obi-Wan’s head. Lower cells were hardest for the guardsmen to see from the central control pod; “fresh meat” like him wouldn’t just be thrown into one without good reason.

Or a good bribe.

“Here ya go, Hardeen,” one clone says as he deactivates the green ray shield. “Home, sweet home.”

Obi-Wan walks inside, and the first face he meets is Moralo Eval’s, in all its grinning and maniacal glory.

Obi-Wan huffs. He isn’t surprised nor is he ecstatic about this particular bunk assignment, but he _is_ relieved that now he won’t have to track down the Phindian all over the prison. Now all he has to do is keep from being forced into bed. Fun.  “Hmm, what a coincidence.”

Eval gives him a once-over. “No coincidence,” he says, smugly. “I am Moralo Eval, and I have _great_ influence here. It’s simple to get something I _want._ ”

“And what do you want from me?” Obi-Wan asks.

Eval snorts softly, sitting on the edge what must be his bunk. “A man like you, there’s bigger game than Jedi… _if_ you’ve got the guts.”

Obi-Wan takes a seat on the bunk across from him, keeping his voice as skeptical as was necessary.

“I’m listening.”

That seems to please Moralo Eval, who grins and begins to explain emphatically.

“It’s a brilliant plan, if I do say so,” he says, and meshes his fingers together, “and it involves the _Chancellor._ ”

A clearing throat interrupts him (much to both Obi-Wan and Eval’s consternation, it seems) and the inmate above Eval rolls over and levers up on his elbow.

Obi-Wan mentally curses in every language he knows when a familiar Duros appears.

“If I’m breaking out this goon along with us, it’ll cost you double my rate.” Cad Bane snarls in his raspy, no-nonsense voice, and Obi-Wan silently curses some _more_.

_Of kriffing course._

Eval sighs as Bane swings his thin legs over the side.

“Rako Hardeen, meet Cad Bane.”

From the nasty glare the Duros gives him alone, Obi-Wan wonders if he knows _exactly_ who he is. But that seems to be Bane’s natural countenance, so he offers in ways of greeting:

“Who you calling a goon?” he asks.

Bane regards him like he’s something to wipe off the bottom of a boot heel.

“Any imbecile can kill a Jedi with a lousy sniper blast,” Bane responds, cutting to the point faster than Obi-Wan was used to with anyone. “You want my respect?” he asks, hopping down from his perch and crowding up close to Obi-Wan. Pupiless red eyes narrow. “You do it face-to-face.”

Obi-Wan snorts as he stands, tilting in just as close.

“Who said I want _your_ respect?”

Bounty hunters like Cad Bane respect someone who is willing to argue with them...or they _should._ Obi-Wan realizes his faux pas too late when Bane arches one hairless brow and rolls his eyes to the side.

“Make that _triple_ my rate.” Bane sneers back at Obi-Wan, the threat of a fight heavy in the air.

That is the moment Eval, who had been watching their interaction with a little _too_ much excitement for Obi-Wan’s tastes, chuckles and pushes them away from each other. If hands rest on both of their chests a little longer than necessary, Obi-Wan doesn’t say a thing, while Bane bats the offending appendage away with a disgusted click of his tongue.

“Probably not worth it anyways,” Obi-Wan remarks, hoping to goad Eval into explaining the plan to him.

That plan backfires, utterly.

“If that isn’t of interest, Moralo Eval has... _other_ uses for you in mind,” the Phindian’s yellow eyes skitter down the length of Obi-Wan’s body, his tongue darting out to lick at his lips. “Let Moralo Eval fuck you, and he’ll pay to bring you with us.”

Obi-Wan and Bane both make a disgusted face at the same time, for once agreeing upon something.

“Not in here, you ain’t,” Bane growls. “Doesn’t matter how many credits you got.”

“I’d rather have a lightsaber jammed inside me,” responds Obi-Wan, with much the same sentiment.

Moralo Eval doesn’t seem very hurt by the answer. If anything, he looks amused.

“Oh, what a shame,” he says, gaze flickering between them both. “Seems this cell isn’t big enough for the three of us. Guard!”

Eval wraps his arm tightly around Obi-Wan’s waist, hand drifting towards his arse, and leads him away towards the ray shield as the guards float their repulsor platform over.

“It’s been a pleasure chatting with you, Hardeen, but you will forget everything you heard in here,” Eval frowns threateningly at him, and suddenly a cold hand grips the back of Obi-Wan’s throat and forces him to lean down. “Or Moralo Eval will have you slaughtered. And Moralo Eval **_will_** have his fuck then.”

Obi-Wan chokes down his distaste for this revolting creature and adopts an unperturbed expression as the hand leaves the back of his neck, and pats his behind. “In that order?”

He is going to cut that hand off if it is the last thing he ever does.

Eval snickers as he’s taken away.

* * *

 

No matter how long it’s been, Coruscant will always feel like home to Serenus.

As soon as he steps out of his transport amongst various other passengers, the need to pinpoint the Jedi Temple in the sea of spacescrapers and traffic is too strong to ignore. The distant three towers, devoid of any skylane traffic, sends a surprising twinge of homesickness in him. He ponders what it would be like to see it from within again.

The Sith Lord is pulled out of his reverie by a scuffle behind him. He looks over to find an elderly Gran hobbling slowly down the narrow disembarkment ramp. Others behind her are growing loud in their impatience, and with one last wistful glance at the Temple, Serenus walks over and offers them his hand.

“May I help?”

The Gran blinks her three eyes up at him, and places their shaking hand into Serenus’ when he gives her a gentle smile.

Once on the landing pad proper, he dips his head at her in farewell and loses himself in the crowd.

Serenus is more well known in name than in face on Coruscant, and anyone that can recollect far enough back to remember Qui-Gon Jinn would find that they could hardly focus on Serenus’ face for more than moment.

Cloaking himself in the Force while also keeping his signature silent enough so as not to attract any nearby Jedi, becomes less and less necessary the further Serenus descends. In the lower levels of Coruscant, the sheer concentration of life is enough to hide just about anyone, and the inhabitants of this eternally dark place are more than happy to ignore someone that looks dangerous.

The currents of the Living Force are currently guiding him nowhere, so Serenus is content with simply wandering until a conversation he happens to overhear from an open-faced shop causes him to pause.

“Rako Hardeen’s the one that did, or so I heard.” one says, and the other one scoffs.

“Musta been one helluva karking shot to kill a Jedi in one blast. Too bad he’s in jail, maybe he coulda taught you a thing or two!”

“Hey!”

When they both finally take notice that someone had been listening to them, Serenus is already halfway down the street already. His rage is a curling silver heat in his belly, just waiting for a reason to burst out.

_Rako Hardeen._

He finds the nearest public terminal, and inputs the name. A marksman from Concord Dawn… currently imprisoned at the Republic Judiciary Central Detention Center for an unnamed crime… Despite the inexact and vague report, Serenus _knows._

This was who he had come to Coruscant for.

This was the man that had killed Obi-Wan, and Serenus would get to him even if it meant he had to tear Coruscant apart.

* * *

The workout area is nearly empty this close to the dinner meal, and that’s exactly what Obi-Wan wants.

He makes his way over to the machine that had been specified beforehand (thank the Force there was only one) and clears his throat at the pair currently using it.

Obi-Wan cocks his head away from the bench press as soon as they look up at him, crossing his arms.

The Trandoshan hisses, but sets the barbell on the rack anyway.

“We were just leavin’,” he says, before gesturing to the Rodian to move along with him.

Obi-Wan never believed he could think this way, but having a poor reputation can be a _good_ thing.

Casting his gaze around him, Obi-Wan makes a show of stretching and cracking his joints. He leans his hands down, surreptitiously grabbing the transmitter tucked beneath the bench. He sticks in the earpiece, and with one last look around (another perk, nobody wants to be near an inmate with a reputation) activates the comm.

“This is Ben,” he says into the small implement. “I found the transmitter, but I shall have to make this short. We have a problem. I made contact with Eval. He nearly divulged his kidnap plot, but Cad Bane stopped him.”

Mace Windu’s stern voice buzzes in his ear. Good, so they _were_ listening.

“Cad Bane? We had no intel that they were in league together.”

Obi-Wan can only imagine the look on the older Master’s face.

“It appears Eval’s hired Bane to break him out of prison, and the way they were talking, it’s imminent.”

Yoda’s reedy voice chimes in.

“Foolish we were, to believe Bane’s capture was without purpose.”

“Yes.” Obi-Wan stops himself from nodding in agreement to people he cannot even see. He had thought much the same when Bane had been apprehended by Coruscanti Police droids. Though he would never admit it to anyone, the bounty hunter was simply too _good_ to be that stupid. “But we can make this work for us. If they do try to escape, I won’t let them out of my sight. No doubt he shall lead us to some answers about the plot, and possibly to his superiors.”

There’s a pause, pregnant with the name ‘Serenus’. Obi-Wan thinks he’s much more relieved than he should be when Mace only responds with:

“Good idea, Obi-Wan. Just don’t blow your cover. It could take a while to extract you from prison.”

Obi-Wan laughs softly. “Not to worry. I’m starting to enjoy playing the villain,” he says, looking up at the sound of a guard’s footsteps coming closer. “Got to go.”

He ends the connection without another word, sliding both transmitter and earpiece into his sleeve.

* * *

 

Once again in the mess hall, Obi-Wan spots Eval and Bane together at an empty table. But he has no way to get to them, and forcing it would only cause him to be thrown into solitary confinement or worst. Resigning himself to patience, Obi-Wan picks up his tray of food and starts to make his way to a table that will have a clear view of the duo.

An urgent voice calls after him, stopping him in his tracks.

“Hey, Hardeen.” Obi-Wan turns his head to find a young man with fierce, dark eyes making his way over to him. “You owe me something.”

“Oh, do I?”

The boy is Boba Fett, with cropped hair and even nastier demeanor than the last time Obi-Wan had seen holorecordings of him. Obi-Wan is sure Mace will want to hear all _about_ this.

The young clone’s voice takes on a harsher edge the longer Obi-Wan stares at him in mild confusion.  “You don’t even remember me?” he demands. “That’s _very_ insulting.”

This could be trouble. Did the boy know who he really was? “Look, kid, I don’t want any trouble.” Obi-Wan replies calmly, and the young man responds by slamming the tray from Obi-Wan’s hands. Questionable yellow goop and opaque broth slosh across Obi-Wan’s shoes, looking only slightly less edible than it had a moment before.

“You stole a bounty from me, and I want an apology!”

Now Obi-Wan understands what this must be about. Rako Hardeen must have stolen a bounty from the fledgling bounty hunter, but something still seems off. _Staged._  Before he can diffuse whatever the kriff this situation is, however, other inmates start to shout at them both.

“Kill him, Hardeen, like the Jedi!”

“Kill ‘im!”

“What’s wrong, Hardeen? You lose your spine?”

Obi-Wan closes his eyes are turns to face Boba fully, and opens them again with a warning glare.

“You don’t want to do this.”

Boba seems to almost listen to him, but one glance away has him all but foaming at the mouth once more.

“Oh yes I do!” he yells, and before Obi-Wan can react the boy has his arms wrapped around his middle, throwing  Obi-Wan off of his feet as he hurtles them both into a table.

_Things never can be easy, can they?_

Obi-Wan pushes the younger man off, but Boba continues his assault, throwing punches that the older man easily dodges. Obi-Wan can hear the other inmates getting riled up, and with a scowl he catches one hand and twists the boy’s arms behind his back. He presses it up higher and higher, until Boba finally unclenches his fist with a growl.

“I warned you.”

Two clones run up next to them, electrostaffs at the ready, and Obi-Wan is relieved to have this over with.

“That’s enough! That’s enough! Fight’s over!”

But the peace doesn’t last long, because a Trandoshan comes up behind them and lifts both guards high up into the air. He slams their helmets together, and both go limp as he drops them at his feet.

“No, it ain’t,” he snarls, stomping over to Obi-Wan. “You got a problem with Boba, you got a problem with _me._ ”

He grasps Obi-Wan tightly, lifting Obi-Wan up like a child and throwing his body clear across the room. _More_ guards circle around the Trandoshan, hitting him with jolt after jolt from their electrostaffs, only to be thrown aside with powerful swings of the inmate’s arms and--

_Kriff._

In the blink of an eye, the entire mess hall erupts into a riot.

 _Things are_ **never** _easy._

***

The boy had been a diversion.

As the mess hall erupts into wilder and wilder chaos, and the inmates begin to overpower the guards, Obi-Wan catches sight of a Bane and Eval racing into the corridors along with a number of other prisoners.

Obi-Wan had no choice but to follow, dodging limbs and blaster-bolts like he’s on the front lines of a battlefield instead of in the heart of Republic-controlled space.

It had been only a few days prior that Obi-Wan had been led down these grey hallways, and been utterly unimpressed with them. Now -- with alarms blaring and shouts bouncing off the walls along with the growing stench of blaster burns, all with the soft anxiety of not having his lightsaber close hand perforating his actions-- Obi-Wan fancies that this may very well be the most exciting set of corridors he’s ever run down.

Funny, that.

Obi-Wan spots Bane leading Eval into the lower levels instead of making a mad dash towards the entrance higher up like so many of the other inmates. Obi-Wan’s brow furrows suspiciously. Bane knows where he’s going, he must have a plan. Which means Obi-Wan can either try to incapacitate them both and hope the guards don’t shoot him on sight, or...

“Hey! Wait for me.”

Bane and Eval turn as one, with the Duros growling out. “Nobody invited you.”

Eval remains silent for a moment, and his eyes squint deep in thought. Finally, the Phindian turns to Bane and says:

“He killed a Jedi. He _could_ be helpful.”

Bane regards him, the scowl never leaving his face. As the alarm continues to blare in the narrow corridors, he shakes his head. “Fine. We’re wasting time,” and then continues on a run down the hall.

Obi-Wan has no choice but to follow.

***

The red working lights of the morgue.

They continue running and avoiding for quite some time, until the alarms finally halt and them along with it. Obi-Wan crouches close behind Eval, who in turn is straining to see around the corner behind Bane.

“So what’s the plan?” Obi-Wan murmurs to the Duros. “Last I checked, the front entrance was the only way out of this dump.”

Bane glances back, and cocks his head to a single solitary door set into the wall around the corner.

“That’s our way outta here.” he says.

Obi-Wan scoffs. Death was certainly a way out, from a certain morbid point of view.  “The morgue? _This_ is your brilliant plan?”

Bane bares sharp, yellow teeth at him and quickly makes his way over to the locked control panel. “Ain’t the first time I’ve broken outta this stinkhole.” He inputs a code. When the lock doesn’t unseal, he puts it in again. A muscle twitches beneath one red eye as Bane finally gives up fussing at the control panel.“The lock has changed.”

 _“Your plan has failed.”_ Eval growls, coming up behind him.

“Shut up!” Bane snarls back sharply. “Let me kriffing think.”

Well, this certainly wouldn’t do.

Obi-Wan crouches and tugs off the top of the monitor, before either of the others can protest. “I can get us inside. I’ll rewire the access port on this door. It’ll take some time so warn me if anyone comes.” he says, swiftly.

There’s a flash of almost-respect on Bane’s face, the most surprising thing Obi-Wan has yet to see during his tenure in prison.

“Make it quick.” The Duros hisses.

Eval grins, eyes raking over Obi-Wan’s form. “Moralo Eval knew you would be useful.”

They both run to cover opposite ends of the corridor, and when both of their backs are turned, Obi-Wan reaches with the Force past Toba Yon’s shields, and opens the port with one quick slap of his mental energy.

The red screen shifts to green, and the door slides open.

“We’re in!” Obi-Wan whisper-yells, fitting the port back into place.

“All the riot casualties are sent to the crematorium.” Bane explains as he makes his way over to a casket. “From there it’s an easy escape.”

Obi-Wan has to admit: it is a clever means of escape. He also makes a mental note to blow the entire routine wide open as soon as this mission is complete.

Voices roll in from outside the morgue.

“The guards are coming back,” Obi-Wan says, but he needn’t have told the others that. Eval and Bane are already clambering into the two open caskets, leaving Obi-Wan with…

A corpse.

Divine.

Obi-Wan pushes the deceased Rodian aside and clambers in beside them just as the guards enter the room. With his face pressed up against a cold, deflated chest, and the thick sides of the casket stifling the Clones’ words into distant, uninterpretable mumbles, Obi-Wan has absolutely no warning when the casket tilts forward and then speeds south at an alarming rate.

He’s thankful for the complete darkness of the metal coffin. Feeling and _smelling_ the corpse spooning him was more than bloody enough. He didn’t need to see it, too.

The coffin slams to halt, and Obi-Wan pushes the top open just as Bane and Eval do theirs.

There is a calming quality that Obi-Wan has always appreciated about battles, like finally perfecting a set of katas or a certain lightsaber technique. When one  is on the cusp of life and death, when they don’t need to hold back against an opponent, and simply allows the Force to guide their movements, it’s as close to pure peace as one can get, ironic though it may be.

Obi-Wan can feel a pressure in the back of his skull as he fights off the Clone technicians that will definitely develop into one hells of a headache later. Annoyance, or perhaps concentration. It’s one thing to concentrate on fighting -- it’s a complete other to hold oneself back.

He doesn’t wish to hurt these clones, let alone kill them. But it’s difficult to keep that up while fighting back to back with cold-blooded psychopaths.

Obi-Wan aims for non-lethal means of suppression, all of which last for a good half moment before either Bane shoots them or Eval mauls them. Obi-Wan catches the arm of one clone and throws him over his back into a computer panel, and when the technician staggers up and stares at him with wide eyes, he’s forced to grab one of the fallen clones’ blasters.

Obi-Wan aims the blaster, tilting his eyes ever so subtly towards the panic button. The technician’s eyes slip towards it, and he slaps it. Hard.

(If Obi-Wan is lucky, they’ll be caught and simply taken back to prison.)

More alarms and flashing lights begin to blare, and despite the growing migraine, Obi-Wan is actually beginning to get used to this.

Bane snarls and shoots the technician leaning against the console quickly and cleanly. “What’s the matter with you?” he demands, long finger twitching beside the trigger of his stolen weapon.

“My blaster jammed.” Obi-Wan responds, quickening the cadence of his voice to sound more panicked. “We’re gonna get caught at this rate.”

“Like hells we are,” Bane hisses, scanning the room for his Phindian charge.

Closer to the stairs leading to the outside of the facility, Eval continues to slam his fist into the downed clone, whose head seemed to have caved in a mass of blood, bone, and brain matter quite a bit ago. Yet still Eval continues to mash yellow-brown fists into it, eyes fever-bright with glee.

“Let’s go!” Bane commands, already running ahead.

There are more hallways. More clones. More fighting. All of it begins to blend together, and it doesn’t stop. Obi-Wan can hardly believe it, but they might actually escape. (So much for ‘high-end security prisons’).

They eventually come above ground to a cold night sky filled with the flashing red-and-blue lights of security and police speeders.

“What are we supposed to do from here?” Obi-Wan asks, pressing himself into a wall between Bane and Eval. “We can’t get past this many.”

Bane rams the butt of his blaster into a Clone’s jaw, kicking them away and over the edge without even breaking a sweat. “We blend in,” he says, tilting his head towards a nearby, empty security speeder.

_This is actually going to work, isn’t it?_

They hop inside, and take off without another hitch.

Obi-Wan can’t help but be mildly impressed, even as he curses silently in seven different languages.

***

“Soon as we’re off Coruscant, we’re safe,” Bane says once more.

It had been a good few hours since they’d escaped the prison, and dawn was slowly beginning to leak into the dark sky. From the rear compartment of the speeder, Obi-Wan crosses his arms and slumps back, the picture of anxious-lethargy.

“Then why are we still hanging around here?” he mutters.

“I agree,” Eval adds from the passenger seat. “When will we be getting off of this steel mudball, Bane?”

“Gotta find… a good one.” Bane shifts the speeder a little higher above the docking bay’s edge, eyes landing on a dumpy looking Trandoshan dragonboat. “And there it is.”

Taking the freighter is easy enough while the owner has their back turned with the incentive of prison clinging to their backs like sweat.

Eval swings into the navigator’s seat without a word, fingers speeding across the console in a way that could make Anakin look incompetent.

As soon as Obi-Wan is aboard and the docking seal locked, Bane punches him. _Hard._ The facial reconstruction is still raw, and Obi-Wan’s entire face aches from the single glancing blow.

“That’s for hesitating during the escape.”

“If it wasn’t for me, we’d still be stuck in there.” Obi-Wan growls back.

“Yeah. _Funny_ how that worked out.” Bane eyeballs him distrustfully as he gets into the pilot’s seat. “Sit the fuck down, Hardeen.”

Once the ship clears the first layer of the atmosphere, an air of calm settles around the trio. The only one who doesn’t visible sag in his seat is Bane. Meanwhile, Eval swivels around in his chair, and looks Obi-Wan up and down.

“You did well in there, Hardeen,” he grins gleefully, teeth bared. “Perhaps there’s a place for you in my plans after all.”

“Aside from being your sentient sexbot?” Obi-Wan asks mildly.

Eval chuckles. “Oh-ho, don’t tempt me.”

“Don’t make me crash this ship.” Bane grumbles from the pilot’s chair.

Eval slides his gaze over to Bane. “This is different.”

Obi-Wan glances at the Duros as well, then leans toward Eval, hands clasped between his knees. It was time to see how far this was going to go. “I’m listening.”

* * *

Padmé is in a loose sleeveless gown with a high waist and a deep neckline. It’s the color of dawn, soft, but cool like the moon when Anakin gently slips it off of his wife.

Padmé is soft, somatic, _warm._ She’s something to cling to. Anakin can feel the anxieties of the last few days fleeing from his mind as they make love, quiet yet urgent, in her bed. Lets himself forget for a few precious moments that the man that had raised him, cared for him, taught him, is _dead. Obi-Wan is dead, dead, dead_ , and even knowing his murderer will rot in jail for the rest of his days does nothing to ease Anakin’s mind.

Padmé can sense it. She knows him too well, and Anakin is thankful to the galaxies above that she does. He would go mad without her, he knows, unable to get rid of all these roiling, infuriating emotions within him

She raises her chin at him when he pulls himself out of her, and threads small fingers through his sweaty hair.

“Ani,” she says, and even in this moment of intimacy there is still that spark of regal authority in her voice, “You did all you could. Obi-Wan would be proud.”

He rests his forehead against hers, inhaling the scent of her hair and perfume and sweat, and buries them both beneath thick blankets.

“I don’t want him to be proud of me,” Anakin says, cheek pressed against her collarbone and Padmé’s breasts against his neck. “I want him to be _alive.”_ Anakin swallows, nearly on the verge of tears, but holds himself back. “It was so much like… like….”

“You don’t need to say it. I know,” Padmé hushes, grabbing his flesh hand and kissing each knuckle slowly. “I know, Ani.”

As soon as his heart has stopped stuttering like a faulty hyperdrive in his chest, he nuzzles closer against Padmé, wrapping his strong arms around her tiny body.

“I wish I knew how to make it go away,” Anakin says.

“Crying helps, you know.”

Anakin sighs. “I’ll cry later,” he mumbles, not really meaning it.

They lay like that a moment longer, until Padmé pushes herself out of the sheets under the pretense of needing to get ready for the day. Anakin watches her from the bed as she pulls on yet another soft-looking dress.

“Anakin, can you zip me up?” Padmé asks, pushing her long curls to expose her back.

Anakin grins and gets up. He sighs against Padmé’s head as he ties the silk laces around the nape of her neck.

“Is there any other way I can be of service, Lady Senator?” he slides his arms around her waist, pressing them both tightly against one another.

“Mmm.” Padmé’s eyes flutter closed and she laces her fingers through his, rocking back against him just as the door chimes. “You can wait here while I see who that is.”

Anakin groans, and with more than a little hesitation pulls himself away from his wife.

Padmé steps out the room, and Anakin can hear a flurry of muted chatter from the other room. It continues as Anakin hears the telltale snick of the front door sliding shut.

Anakin hunches his shoulders and sidles back from the open door of the bedroom, ready to leave through the balcony if he has to. Wouldn’t be the first time.

But it’s only Ahsoka walking inside beside Padmé, looking extremely displeased.

“Snips!” Anakin yelps in surprise as he steps fully into view, then, remembering his own state of undress, quickly steps back _out_ of it. He peaks his head out from behind the door jamb.

Ahsoka only rolls her eyes, placing her hands on her hips.  Anakin winces at her stern look and quickly opens up their training bond. He’s met with a wall of annoyance.

“Learn how to answer your damn comm!” Ahsoka snaps at him.

Anakin tugs on a pair of leggings, attempts to pull on a tunic, gives up, and throws his Jedi cloak over his bare torso instead. “How, uh, how did you know I was here?” he asks as he walks out into the foyer, trying very hard to ignore the curious look on Padmé’s face as she moves past them both.

(Even fresh out of sex, she looks put together. Anakin will never understand how she does it.)

“Artooie told me,” Ahsoka says, and Anakin finally notices the harried, frazzled look in her eyes. “Master, this is important. It’s--”

“--PRISON BREAKOUT.” The sound of the holovision blaring as Padmé turns it on in the other room has both Master and Padawan racing in there. They find Padmé standing behind one of her couches, a hand covering her mouth.

Anakin watches the hologram images intently, every semblance of peace melting from his mind the moment the list of escaped convicts rolls across the screen.

He doesn’t recall ever leaving Padmé’s apartments so quickly.

* * *

News of the prison riot and subsequent escape reaches Serenus’ ears in the lower levels of Coruscant just in the nick of time.

It isn’t tremendously difficult to recognize one of the escapees, even without the glaringly obvious prison jumpsuit. The fear makes the air around the Karkarodon heavier in the Force, and Serenus quietly coaxes the noxious feeling until the prisoner finally makes a mistake and turns down into a deserted alley.

The Sith follows.

“You seem troubled.” Serenus pauses, allowing the murmurs in the Force around him to raise a bit in volume. “Haj Ogua.”

The Karkarodon stops in his tracks, fists clenching at his sides in preparation for a fight.

“I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about.”

Serenus smiles, and ignites his lightsaber.

Before the Karkarodon can so much as take another breath, the blade is against his throat. Ogua’s black eyes are wide with fear, and the tall creature stumbles back into a grimy metal wall.

“Alright, alright! I’m Haj, I’m Haj. Please, don’t kill me!”

Serenus leans forward, and doesn’t pull his ‘saber away. “You will tell me all you know of the Jedi Obi-Wan Kenobi’s killer.”

Ogua’s powerful head quivers in a juddering nod. “What? Yeah, yeah. Okay. I know the guy,” he flaps one bandaged hand before Serenus’ face. “Did this to me with a prong, the crazy fuck.”

Serenus’ eyes flick down toward the webbed hand, bored. “Hm. And?”

The Karkarodon scrabbles a little higher against the wall, swallowing convulsively. “And what?”

“Is Rako Hardeen still within the prison, or did he escape as you did?”

“How should I karkin’ know?” Ogua’s nose slits flare open in anger. Composed questioning seems to have led him to believe that Serenus won’t actually hurt him. The Sith finds that almost funny in its naivety. “Why don’t you just check the newsfeeds before you take me back to prison, you--”

Serenus moves so fast that it’s only barely visible when he shoves the blade of his lightsaber through Ogua’s bandaged hand, pinning it to the alley wall.

The Karkarodon’s mouth opens wide, revealing three rows of razor-sharp teeth, and he cries out sharply.

“Is Rako Hardeen still within the prison?” Serenus asks again, slowly rotating the hilt of his lightsaber. “Or not?”

Ogua lets out a sound halfway between a curse and a cry and nods vigorously.

“Yes! _FUCK!_ S’all over the newsfeeds! He-he-he got off planet with a couple of others….agh!...Cad Bane and...and Moralo Eval!”

Serenus clicks his lightsaber off, straightening up as Haj Ogua falls to his knees, clutching his smoldering hand to his chest.

“You karking bastard!” Ogua roars, frothing with pain. “Kriffing...star-damned...fucking _Jedi._ Ruining the entire kriffing gala--!”

The rest of his words end in a low pitched gurgle as Serenus plunges and then tugs his lightsaber out of the top of his head. Ogua blinks, and then topples over into a puddle on the ground.

“I am no Jedi.”

Serenus regards him a moment longer before turning and speaking into his wrist.

“Jard.”

It takes a moment for the encrypted communication to go through, especially on as well-protected a planet as Coruscant, but Serenus is always a priority to Dooku. The older Sith Lord picks up quicker than he would have with anyone else.

“Qui-Gon.” a pause. “Where are you?”

Serenus smirks. “Coruscant. Listen, I need a favor from you.”

Static buzzes along the link for some time before Dooku answers again. “I’m not picking you up.”

“And I wouldn’t expect you to, old friend,” says Serenus with a slight chuckle, glancing down at the Karkarodon lying dead in the street. His jumpsuit emblazoned with the number **_335_ ** already beginning to darken with sewage water, and it looks even uglier than it had before. “I can get off of Coruscant quite fine on my own. What I require is a bit of information...regarding the whereabouts of Moralo Eval.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Some lines taken from the Clone Wars episode "Deception" (Season 4 Episode 15)  
> *Art in this chapter by the awesome [jaegervega](http://jaegervega.tumblr.com/) and [lacefedora](http://lacefedora.tumblr.com/), respectively.


	2. Friends and Enemies Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anakin gets hot n' bothered by his greatest enemy: Emotions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...Guess what's back?
> 
> It's been awhile since I last updated this, and during the time between then and now, I discovered a very important aspect of myself: I fucking hate long chapters. Hate hate hate hate hate 'em. I hate writing them and I hate reading them.
> 
> There are, of course, those special fics where I can't help but tear through every last word, but, unfortunately, my own writing is not yet in that category. So, after braining myself on the corner of my desk for the eleventy millionth time while e-wording the original chapter two, I decided to simply say **fuck it.** I don't have to post it all in one go, and, honestly, I think shorter chapters are better for a whole slew of reasons.
> 
> 1) I feel good because I can update
> 
> 2) *You* feel good because you can finish a chapter quickly (who doesn't love finishing something?)
> 
> 3) While it's the same amount of content, I can trick myself into believing that it's not as terrifyingly huge.
> 
> 4) It won't send anyone I beg to beta for me running for the hills, because oh LAWDY SHE (as in me) WANTS ME (as in the Best Beta Bitch) TO READ THROUGH OVER FORTY PAGES OF THIS SHIT? SHE MISSPELLED FORWARD. WHO MISSPELLS FORWARD?! And so on and so forth.
> 
> Expect future chapters to be around this length (~3-4k) and for updates to be much more frequent. (At least once a week. Maybe more, depending on the alignment of the stars and how many sheep I've sacrificed to the Demon God of Wording, Scrimptum FuckEditicus, that particular morning.) 
> 
> A huge shoutout to my Best Beta Bitch for this chapter, **[ideordinal!](http://ideordinal.tumblr.com/)** (any mistakes left over are mine and mine alone), and a slightly softer but still jubilistic thank you to everyone else that has continued to be so fucking supportive of this damn thing (especially all y'all on Tumblr, you know who you are).
> 
> Thanks for reading, peeps. Enjoy~
> 
> -Miss Pop

Anakin carves a path down the main corridor leading to the Temple’s southwestern spire, Jedi of all ages, rank, and shape still awake at so early an hour hopping out of his way as he races towards the High Council Chamber. Ahsoka isn’t far behind, following him like a shadow.

Despite the hour, the handful of Council members on furlough are already gathered in the larmalstone lobby outside of the chamber. Some even in their sleep clothes.

Ahsoka moves ahead of Anakin, straight to Masters Yoda and Windu. Both are huddled near the still-sealed door of the chamber; Windu bright-eyed despite only wearing an undershirt and trousers.

“Masters, I found him.”

Windu turns his attention away from Yoda, and inclines his head down at Ahsoka. “Thank you, Padawan Tano.” Then he turns to Anakin. “Skywalker, would you care to be present at this discussion?”

The question is a peace offering of sorts, and Anakin knows it. Windu’s way of apologizing for Obi-Wan. But despite that knowledge, Anakin still finds himself resenting Master Windu for thinking that he needs pity like that.

He can feel Yoda’s gaze on him. Assessing.

Anakin tells himself to calm down, and nods once. “Yes, Master.”

Though they wait in the lobby awhile longer, Anakin working to contain his impatience, it’s not until they’re inside the vaulted chamber that Anakin realises just how few of the Council Members are actually present. Aside from Masters Yoda and Windu, there’s only Plo Koon, Adi Gallia, and Kit Fisto, whose headtails shiver as he suppresses a yawn. Shaak Ti is most likely on Kamino, while Anakin knows for a fact that Eeth Koth, Saesee Tiin, and Ki-Adi-Mundi are spearheading a campaign against the Separatists somewhere near Rodia.

None of the absent members are present as holoprojections, and Anakin finds himself pointing it out before he can stop himself.

“Shouldn’t we wait for the rest of the Council to be here?” he asks.

“Sudden, this meeting is,” Yoda says from his small seat. “Told of the discussion, they will be.”

Anakin frowns at the obvious dismissal of his question, but he keeps his mouth firmly shut as Windu turns to Adi Gallia.

“Adi, what’s the current status on the escaped convicts?”

The Tholothian Master is always the first to deal with diplomatic -- and therefore most governmental -- related matters. Windu hasn’t even finished his question before she’s rattling off information with the poise and fluency of any natural-born ambassador.

“Eighty-seven inmates escaped during the initial jailbreak. Of that number, sixty have been apprehended and brought back into custody by the RSF.“ She pauses. “Among those was the young Boba Fett.”

A sigh escapes Windu, but his face remains passive. “One good thing out of this kriffing mess. Go on.”

Gallia tilts her chin down. “The other seventeen consist of those that managed to get into the Lower Levels, or off-world. The Judiciary is currently working on finding them all before they can escape Republic space.” She huffs. “That’s all I have, Mace. I was told the Chancellor wants to keep the public under the impression that the situation is completely contained.”

“And yet he allowed the release of that broadcast?” Plo Koon asks. “Why?”

“It makes him look better, Master Koon,” says Gallia. “To fix such a situation before bringing it before the Senate is quite the feat.”

“Kriffing opportunistic prick,” Windu mumbles, low enough that Anakin isn’t sure if he actually heard it. “Thank you, Adi. “ Windu shuts his eyes in thought, and drums his fingers against the armrest of his chair. “Plo, Kit, organize whoever we have to spare in the Temple to help with on-planet searches. _Covertly._ Anyone that managed to clear the atmosphere will just have to wait. The--”

“What about Rako Hardeen?”

The line between Windu’s eyebrows grows. “Adi, what about Rako Hardeen.”

Gallia hesitates before pulling out a small datapad from her cloak and quickly flipping through it, eyes darting back and forth as she reads and speaks at the same time.

“He was one of the escaped convicts, yes. He was spotted by nearby docking security cams stealing a ship with fellow inmates Cad Bane and Moralo Eval. It’s believed he was one of the few that managed to get off-world.”

Windu’s eyes open as Gallia shuts off her datapad.

“There you have it, Skywalker.”

Anakin crosses his arms to keep the Council from seeing how his hands keep twitching towards his lightsaber. “Let me go after him.”

“No.”

“Why not?” Anakin demands.

“We have no idea where he went, for one.” Windu levels a stony glare at him. “Secondly, we are working on recapturing _all_ of the convicts.”

“What are we doing to recapture _him_ , exactly?” Anakin says. When none of the Council Members answer, a dark look falls across his eyes. “We can’t just let that… murdering _filth_ run free.”

“They’re _all_ murderers. That’s why they were all prisoners in the same facility.”

“So, we’re going to allow him freedom  until we have the _time_ to recapture him? After what he did? He _killed--”_

The harsh sound of wood meeting tile causes Anakin to snap his mouth shut. Any Jedi worth their salt knows it’s best to shut up when Master Yoda involves his gimer stick.

“Patience, you must have,” the small green master says, gentle yet firm. “Taken care of, it will be.”

“But you don’t have any idea where he is,” Anakin continues, undeterred. “No clone troopers are being sent out. No one from the Order. Hardeen is a _Jedi_ killer; he’s dangerous. Doesn’t that mean anything to you?”

“Skywalker!” Windu’s voice cuts through the air like a blade, and all Anakin can do is snap his mouth shut and glare at him. Windu gives him a look that could almost be called sympathetic. “Enough. We’re all hurt over what happened to Obi-Wan, but if Master Yoda says it will be handled, it will be. You’re dismissed.”

Anakin shifts on his feet. “But--”

“You are dismissed.” Windu enunciates tersely, but despite the coldness in his words, he looks dejected. Pained by something. “Leave the Council Chamber immediately.”

Anakin stands his ground for a moment longer, but then, with a deep breath, turns sharply on his heel and exits the round chamber.

Anakin doesn’t go back to Padmé’s apartments.

He shoots right past Ahsoka, who has been standing near the door, without a word. Anakin feels bad about that, but he knows he’ll feel worse if he accidentally hurts her in his anger. He wonders if he already has, and the thought makes him falter. But it isn’t long before the Council starts to come out after him, Windu and Yoda breaking off from the others and heading straight to Force knows where, and Anakin is back to getting as much distance as he can from them as possible.

Ahsoka starts to follow him, but she’s stopped in her tracks by a gentle, four-fingered hand on her shoulder.

“Let him be, Ahsoka,” Plo Koon says.

Anakin doesn’t catch the rest.

He speeds up his pace before anyone else can stop him, enters the turbolift that will take him to the base of the tower, and subtly blocks his bond with Ahsoka. It isn’t enough that he won’t sense her if she absolutely needs him, but at least it’ll keep him from drowning her in his own tumultuous emotions.

Anakin does what he’s always done when he can’t, or doesn’t want, to be around anyone else: He heads to the sparring arena.

The large central training hall itself, most often used for lightsaber training classes and the like when they aren’t held outside, has multiple smaller rooms branching off of it like teeth on a gear.

These miniature training halls are double or single occupancy, meant as a place for one-on-one training. Anakin obtains a private one and, once he’s inside, he strips down to only his trousers, boots, and gloves.

He goes through the most basic katas of Form V first, holding each stance until the muscles in his arms and stomach and thighs begin to bulge and burn from the effort. He keeps up this painfully slow rhythm through the beginning, intermediate, and more advanced steps, focusing all of his attention on the angle of his blade above the matte-grey tiled floor; the speed of his breathing; and the placement of pressure on the soles of his feet, until he finds himself all but doubling over from exhaustion.

He repeats the process three times.

 

The day stretches on, and by mid-morning Anakin is moving swiftly around the small hall in the familiar steps of the Form IV katas, as well as some improvised ones he’s been perfecting for some time now. He passes through bars of sunlight that make shadows dance across his lean figure, the jumps and twists and twirls succeeding in taking all of his focus. Anakin has always had a deep appreciation for the attention required for Ataru.

When it comes to the point that he has done all he that can on his own, Anakin pauses in his training. Strained and sweaty, he rakes his metal hand through his hair in an attempt to make it less of a curled maelstrom, and goes to summon a training droid.

Anakin takes his time getting over to the other side of the arena, allowing the sweat on his skin to cool and his breathing to even out. He gets a few looks as he moves across the wide area, mostly from wide-eyed Initiates that turn their attentions away from the JTR-47 unit tasked with their care to gape at a war hero. Anakin smiles at them as he passes by, and even pauses to correct the stance of a young Twi’lek. She listens to his advice intently, along with a few of her crèchemates close enough to hear his whispered instructions.

Disappointment tugs at the edges of his mind when the younglings are ushered into the next training room by their droid instructor. Not for the first time, he contemplates volunteering in the training hall, or even the crèche itself. Part of him knows he would be good at it, perhaps even enjoy it, but as quickly as the thought sprouts up in his mind, it withers.

He could never justify it with the war still going on. He’s needed on the front lines, whether he wants to be or not.

Master Li Ranta, a Crèchemaster and Training grounds supervisor, is working the training droid checkout area. She glances at Anakin with pupil-less black eyes when he approaches, and sucks her teeth.

“Anakin Skywalker. What would you like to break today?”

Anakin forces a stiff smile at the Jastaal. “I’d just like to spar with Q-ZE.”

Master Ranta hums in consideration and gestures back to his training room, the vibrant plumage on her arm brushing along the floor. “I’ll have her meet you in there. Be gentle, would you? We just fitted her with a new chassis.” She turns around to help another Jedi before Anakin can say another word.

Anakin says a quick yes and thank you at her back, and hurries back to his miniature hall. Sure enough, his modified training droid is already there, a lightsaber in hand. Master Ranta is as quick with her duties as she is with her attention.

“Master Anakin, it is good to see you.”

Q-Z3 brandishes the ‘saber, and in the blink of an eye her mechanical form is enveloped in a holographically-projected image. A demonic, tattooed face snarls at Anakin.

Anakin rolls his shoulders and breathes deeply. “It’s good to see you too, Cuezee.”

Getting through Darth Maul is simple. Anakin has been doing that since he was still a Padawan. Count Dooku is a bit more challenging, but after a time Anakin gets through him easily as well. Too easily.

“Will that be all, sir?” Q-Z3 asks.

Anakin blinks sweat out of his eyes. “No. Keep going, Cuezee.”

Q-Z3 nods and starts to cycle through all the different opponents Anakin has programmed into her over the years. Serenus. Xanatos du Crion. Mace Windu. More than half of the Council. Any opponent that Anakin has either fought himself or heard about has been turned into data and inputted into Q-Z3 for him to spar with. With her added enhancements, such as internal holoprojectors that can switch to different opponents and programming that can mimic particular fighting styles, compared to the typical Temple Training Droid, Q-Z3 is a class all her own. There isn’t another like her, and that makes training with her all the more important.

Despite her advanced state, there are still some things that Anakin has yet to perfect. Smaller Masters, such as Yoda or Piell, are next to impossible to recreate, alongside larger opponents. Anakin decides that the time after this sparring session would be a perfect opportunity to spend a few hours tweaking Cuezee as he blocks a vicious uppercut from holo-Windu, before side-stepping and twisting his blade through the holoprojection's chest. The image freezes and melts into Master Shaak Ti, her lekku phasing through Anakin’s arms as she cartwheels away from him.

Anakin begins to lose himself in the rhythm of battle, cutting down opponent after opponent until.

Until the holoprojected image shifts and becomes Obi-Wan.

Anakin had forgotten about this program. The design is outdated, with Obi-Wan’s hair curling down to his shoulders and his outfit more reminiscent of a Knight then the Master he would become. Anakin doesn’t doubt he could beat his old Master at this programmed level.

But try as he might, he can’t move.

Q-Z3 holds one hand up, two fingers pointed at Anakin in the starting stance of Soresu before launching herself at him, and slamming her ‘saber down at him. Anakin only barely brings his own up to block it, and Q-Z3 slides her’s down the length of his, causing an electrical shriek to emanate from both of the blades.

Anakin can’t move. Aside from muscle memory, he can’t get his body to listen to him. He can’t stop looking at Obi-Wan’s face. It takes longer than necessary for him to recall that he has the ability to stop this.

“Program, pause.” Anakin isn’t sure if it’s just sweat in his eyes anymore. “Program, pause!”

Q-Z3 freezes with her blade in midair, and then Obi-Wan’s holographic face evaporates, replaced by Q-Z3’s crystal-blue photoreceptors. They brighten and darken at him in a droid’s approximation of a blink, and she pulls back.

“Sir, are you well?”

Anakin finds himself stalking away from her as quickly as he can, his heart slamming in his throat and making it difficult to breathe. He pulls on his undertunic and gathers the rest in his arms. He can feel every strand of his own hair plastered against his face with sweat, feel every drop of sweat trickling down his back, arm, and legs. He should stay down here and take a shower first in the training rooms, maybe even stick around and help out with the younglings, or work on Q-Z3.

But he can’t. He needs to get out of here, now. He’s suffocating.

“Y-” Anakin chokes on a sudden sob. “Yeah.” He swallows and motions towards the door to the main section of the training hall. “Head back to Master Rantu. We’re done for today.”

* * *

Slicing into the Republic network is simple back in his rooms. The apartment itself is in a terrible state. Dust clings to every piece of furniture; the conservator can be considered a bio-hazard by GAR standards; and Ahsoka is nowhere to be found.

Anakin hesitantly feels along his bond with her, and she responds immediately. Worry and anger are the two strongest emotions, followed by curiosity.

_Master, what happened in the Council Room?_

_Bantha shit, that’s what._

_That’s what Master Plo said, too._ A pause, or at least the mental equivalent of one, where Ahsoka sifts through her thoughts for a proper response. She still isn’t very good at keeping her mind blocked. _Do you want me to leave you alone?_

The Republic insignia flashes across Anakin’s terminal, and he quickly moves through the encrypted channels until he finds himself on the the Republic Judiciary Central Detention Center’s mainframe.

_Of course not, Snips. I need someone to help me clean up in here._

He hears an echo of Ahsoka’s put-upon sigh, but there’s an obvious undercurrent of relief beneath it. _Fine, I’ll be right up._

As their connection goes silent once more, Anakin focuses back on his terminal and filters through the security holorecordings from the prison until he finds what he needs. It’s easy to download a single static shot and upload it onto a handheld holoprojector.

He spends a few minutes studying every detail of Hardeen’s face, from the tattoo plastered across the right side of his face to the sharp, stark angles and hollows of his cheekbones and chin. The longer he looks, the more the anger within him boils. He shuts it off and hides it in his tunic when he hears Ahsoka at the door.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (YES MY LEGENDARY NOTES SECTION RETURNS)
> 
> *Q-Z3 is meant to be that [ training droid you see Anakin fight in Anakin & Obi-Wan #1](https://comicnewbies.com/2016/02/06/anakin-skywalker-vs-darth-maul-training-droid/) (Really lovely comics, great art, Obi-Wan always looks like a badass). I just couldn't help myself, and considering Anakin's knack for making everything personal, I thought it fit pretty good. Or you can just consider her an OC. All up to you, fam.
> 
> *A conservator is the Star Wars equivalent of a fridge.
> 
> *Adi Gallia was (is. Hoo hoo you guys don't know if I kill her off yet!) the daughter of two Corellian diplomats, and if you take five seconds to peruse her wikia page, you'll see that she had a knack for it as well. See? Sometimes I pull characterizations out of places besides my ass.
> 
> *RSF stands for Republic Security Force aka the popo. It's one agency of the Judiaciary: law enforcement within the Galactic Republic that aren't Jedi.
> 
> *Follow me on [**Tumblr.shit**](poplitealqueen.tumblr.com) for more up-to-date updates on this fic, sneak previews of things to come (under the Frisson tag), as well as just to see me constantly bitch about stuff (I'm told my bitching is very entertaining).
> 
> *Chapter 3 should be up sometime next Wednesday! Get ready for some Cad Babe.
> 
> *Edit: Fanart in this chapter by the stupendous **[lacefedora](http://lacefedora.tumblr.com)**


	3. Friends and Enemies Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly total their spaceship on the planet of the slug people.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, hello, friendos!
> 
> Like last time, I want to give another huge shoutout to my beta, **[ideordinal](http://ideordinal.tumblr.com)** for really going above and beyond with her help. Any leftover mistakes are mind and mine alone.
> 
> I have some particular warnings for this chapter, so just check on down in the end notes for them, and expect chapter 4 sometime next week. 
> 
> Enjoy.
> 
> -Miss Pop

Their vessel hurtles through the thick atmosphere of Nal Hutta.

“You’re coming in too fast, Hardeen!” Bane snaps, struggling out of his seat and grasping the back of Obi-Wan’s. “Are ya trying to kill us?”

Obi-Wan tightens his fists around the steering yoke, sparing a glance at the Duros bounty hunter before turning his gaze back down to the rapidly approaching, pus-colored swamps below. “They’ll be waiting for us in every spaceport. We have to ditch the ship.”

A thud shakes through them as the dragonboat speeds through the mesosphere and into the stratosphere, sending Bane falling back into his chair.“You mean you’re going to intentionally crash us into the swamp?” he yells.

If Obi-Wan hadn’t been putting every ounce of concentration he had into keeping the ship level as it descended through the heavy atmosphere of the Hutt homeworld, he would have found the normally unflappable Cad Bane’s sudden fear funny. As it were, he felt exactly the same.

Gritting his teeth, Obi-Wan pictures Anakin as he says, “Yeah, that’s _exactly_ what I’m gonna do.”

Obi-Wan can hear Bane starting to argue when another voice cuts him off.

“He’s right.” Moralo Eval seems almost _too_ calm for the situation. The Phindian leans forward, yellow eyes wide and his small mouth open in a grin. “We have no choice.”

Obi-Wan presses his lips together and nods, twisting his palms and accelerating the junker even more. The ships rocks again, durasteel groaning as they enter into the troposphere. Yellow gas-clouds and whirlbats surround the front viewport, covering any sign of the soggy earth below.

Expanding his awareness through the Force, Obi-Wan can sense exactly how close their “landing zone” is behind the creatures… Less than a bloody klick.

“Get ready for a fast exit.” Obi-Wan growls, and he’s quite sure he must have heard Anakin say that at least once.

The ship slams into the choked bogs. Twisted, dark roots as large as the ship itself don’t become visible until they hit one. Their port wing tears off from the main fuselage in a shower of sparks, metal, and dirt. The rear compartment snaps off next, spinning away ahead of them as the cockpit turns once, twice, three times before finally, _thankfully_ , skidding to a halt, tearing up great swaths of wet earth behind them.

Obi-Wan blinks back the sudden wash of vertigo that overcomes him, and starts to stagger up and out of his seat when he feels a hard elbow in his side.

Bane’s red eyes skid about the sparking parts of the ship, and the filthy water getting dangerously close to them.

“What was that about a fast exit, Hardeen?

Obi-Wan takes a deep breath. How did Anakin manage to do things like this with so much mirth?

“Shut the fuck up, Bane. Just help me find a way out of here before we’re all fried.”

It takes a moment for Obi-Wan to orientate himself with the new angle of the ship, but as soon as he does, he knows exactly where to go (he’s made sure to memorize all manner of possible exits from a crashed ship, thanks to Anakin).

“This way.” he waves Bane and Eval over to the stuck blast door, and with Bane’s help prys the two halves open. “We can get out through the emergency escape hatch on the port side of the ship.”

Bane looks over his shoulder at the slanted passageway slowly filling with water ahead of them. “That ain’t the port side.”

“I know.” Obi-Wan jumps down into the waist-high water, and begins to slog through it. “We can _get_ to the port side emergency hatch this way, unless you’d rather swim.”

Bane plunges in behind him, teeth baring in a grimace. “We’re doin’ that already.”

Eval moves out into the passageway at a remarkably fast pace, using his long arms to swing himself from the rafters, until one lets out a low, dangerous creak and he lands with a splash behind Obi-Wan and Bane.

Obi-Wan wipes scummy water from his face. “Really?”

“Juma-head.” Bane hisses in agreement.

Obi-Wan quietly thanks the Force as he twists the emergency hatch door open easily, and climbs his way up and out of the ship. The air outside  isn’t much cleaner than within, but Obi-Wan takes a great, heaving breath nonetheless.

“So you mind finally explaining to me how this helps us?” Bane asks as soon as he’s out as well and pulling off his boots one at a time to clear them of water. “Seems like a waste of time.”

“Nobody can trace us here,” Obi-Wan says, surveying the landscape around them. “The swamp will swallow up the ship.”

Bane scowls at him as Eval exits through the hatch of the ship last, wiping his hands off on his suit with a twisted, delighted smirk.

“So we leave no trace of the crash.” Eval looks up Obi-Wan, and it would take a fool not to figure out what he must be thinking when his eyes settle on the drenched, orange material now clinging to Obi-Wan like a second skin.  “Moralo Eval _likes_ a man who plans ahead.”

Bane’s scowl slips into a look of contempt as he rolls his eyes and climbs off the top of the ship. Obi-Wan does the same.

When their feet hit the ground, Eval speaks up again, this time with a remarkable lack of unnecessary innuendo behind his words.

“You _do_ have a plan, right?” he asks, turning to Obi-Wan skeptically.

Obi-Wan wipes a hand down the front of his jumpsuit, only succeeding in spreading the grime and slime even more on his skin. Irksome.

“Yeah, I know Nal Hutta,” he says. “We can get a new ship at the Bilbousa Bazaar. But this time, we _buy_ one. Otherwise, we’ll have the authorities back on our tail.”

Obi-Wan walks ahead to get his bearings, doing his best to ignore the squelching of his footsteps. He’s intent on getting out of this swamp as quickly as possible.

“Not so fast,” says Bane, plucking at his own jumpsuit with the very tips of his fingers. “We need to ditch these prison fatigues. We’ll have a bounty on our heads from escaping, and I don’t like to stand out.” Bane runs his long fingers over his head wistfully before moving on, aggressively taking the lead of the group from Obi-Wan.

 _This situation is definitely going to prove troublesome,_ Obi-Wan thinks.

But he certainly can’t disagree with clean clothes.

* * *

 

They make their way through the warm, sedgy swamps of Nal Hutta -- dragging along with them a putrid enough stench to kill a Rancor -- before finding themselves on the outskirts of Bilbousa.

An aging marquee with the city’s name in Nal-Huttese glyphs buzzes above their heads. It seems more akin to something one would see above the entrance to a cantina than the entrance to a city, but  that’s a planet run by gangsters you. Having grown up in a place like Coruscant, Obi-Wan is rather used to such absurd theatrics.

The three of them are greeted by suspicious looks and curious glances as they make their way down the main thoroughfare.

A loud groan of pain jerks Obi-Wan’s attention to his right, where he spots a Weequay being beaten into the wall by a guard in grey.

“That’s local security,” Eval says, as the guard slams the Weequay back down a second time with their electrostaff.

“I thought you knew Nal Hutta,” Bane asks.

“I do. Just...spooked,” Obi-Wan replies.

Eval hunches down, and both Obi-Wan and Bane mimic the movement. “Keep moving.” he says.

They reach the end of town with no other incidences, and would have kept going if Bane had not suggested they visit a shop built into the side of a gigantic, dead tree.

“We’ll get some new gear and equipment,” Bane says, walking up the ramp. “Pablo’s Pawn Shop,” he enunciates the name slowly, as if to remind himself of it, or to make sure Eval and Obi-Wan are listening to him. “It has everything a bounty hunter needs and more.”

The interior of the shop is dim and cluttered, slicked with shafts of murky light, like most interiors on Nal Hutta.

Pablo, a mottle-skinned green Rodian with a stoop to his shoulders and a fake grin on his face, greets them at the front. His starry gaze twinkles in the sparse light, picking up every small, refracted bit.

“Welcome, welcome! Oh, Mister Bane, long time no see, my dear, dear friend.”

The only other staff member is a rutian Twi’lek woman, who keeps her head stooped down and her eyes away from them as she moves around the shop, lifting boxes and merchandise on and off of the shelves.

Pablo waves a hand at her when he sees the three of them watching her, “Don’t pay Pala any mind. Please, browse at your leisure.”

Bane breaks off from their small trio before another word can be said, disappearing into the bowels of the shop. Obi-Wan begins to do the same in the opposite direction, until he spots Eval trailing behind Pala.

The Force twitches in subtle warning.

Obi-Wan turns around and follows after Eval instead.

“Mind helping me out?”

Eval isn’t obvious with his harassment. At first, he only settles for lingering, obvious stares and asking for unnecessary help which Pala ignores as she goes about her duties. That’s when he starts to follow her closely along the rows, casually grabbing a buttock or a breast and once even tugging on one of her lekku. Pala allows it all with a tired-eyed look, as if she’s used to it, and continues to stack the shelves with merchandise.

“C’mon, sweetheart, Moralo Eval is a paying customer,” Eval continues. “You shouldn’t ignore Moralo Eval.”

Her snubs seem to only encourage Eval. The longer she ignores him, the more he attempts to take. At one point, he even grabs a lekku and bites down, leaving dents in the blue skin.

Pala lets out a yelp, barely managing to hold onto the crate in her arms.

 _“Kon tee mi!”_ she hisses, pushing him away with her elbow.

Eval takes his mouth away from her lekku, while keeping his hand firmly around it, and titters, “I don’t speak Huttese, sweetheart,” he tugs her down to his level. “Moralo Eval can think of much better uses for that pretty mouth...”

“Enough.” Obi-Wan can’t take it anymore. He looks around to make sure that Bane isn’t close by before handling the situation, grabbing Eval by the arm and digging his fingers into the sensitive nerve in the back of Eval’s elbow until he finally releases the woman. He then hauls Eval away from her. The Twi’lek stumbles away without a word of thanks, leaving the two of them alone within the maze of shelves. “You want us to get caught or something?”

Eval seems angry for a moment, wild, but then the look passes and he grins toothily up at Obi-Wan. _“Jealous,_ Hardeen?”

Obi-Wan scoffs and pushes him against one of the shelves. “Hardly. I’m talking about how you always call yourself ‘Moralo Eval’. I thought you were supposed to be a genius or something.”

Eval grimaces. “It’s a nervous tick. You ever heard of those, Hardeen?”

Obi-Wan tightens his hands around Eval’s shoulders, then loosens his hold ever so slightly. “You don’t have anything to be nervous about here, Eval. You got me and Bane here to protect you. Just lay off the local headtails, would you? Getting laid isn’t worth it.”

One of Eval’s hands catches one of Obi-Wan’s just as Obi-Wan start to pull away, shaking like he’s scared, but his eyes are bright and eager. He purses his lip together, and reaches his other hand up and behind Obi-Wan’s neck, pulling him closer, until their faces are nearly touching.

Eval’s breath smells worse than the swamps.

“Moralo Eval will pay you _double_ what Bane is getting if you suck his cock, right now.” Eval encourages the murmured suggestion by pressing the hand on the back of Obi-Wan’s neck downwards, and using the other to guide Obi-Wan’s hand to the slit in his trousers.

Obi-Wan responds by balling up his fists and throwing Eval away from the shelf and into one of the ramshackle walls nearby.

“I’ll cut it off for free, how’s that?”

Eval struggles to his feet, baring his teeth. “Moralo Eval thought you were all about money.” He hisses back. “Eval is offering you _more_ money.”

“Offer it somewhere else,” Obi-Wan growls. “Pay me what I’m owed, nothing more, nothing less, and save that kind of _osik_ for a brothel somewhere.”

Eval snorts at him, sharp teeth brushing against his bottom lip, before letting the look relax into a fake smile.

“You’re an interesting fellow, Hardeen,” he says.

Obi-Wan returns the words with a frown, and brings his attention back to the shelves to find a change of clothes. He makes sure to stay near Eval, to keep an eye on him. Eval, to his credit, behaves himself, for the most part.

It isn’t long before Obi-Wan has a decent assortment of clothing to change into.

With a soft breath of relief, Obi-Wan peels the soggy jumpsuit away from his skin, the warm air of the shop making his skin goosepimple.

“So, you’re a redhead, huh?”

Eval’s words are soft as his gaze slides from Obi-Wan’s crotch to his bare belly, following the trail of red-gold hair up to Obi-Wan’s face. “Moralo Eval _loves_ redheads.”

Obi-Wan scowls in disgust and turns away to grab his new undershirt, a sturdy, long-sleeved armorweave mesh that hugs close to his skin. He was lucky to have found a matching set of trousers for it.

“Mention that again, and you’ll being seeing red for the rest of your life,” he says.

Eval makes a noise halfway between a purr and a groan, and Obi-Wan catches him adjusting the front of his trousers out of the corner of his eye. He reminds himself that he still _needs_ Eval; he can’t send him back to prison where he belongs quite yet.

He surreptitiously checks his communicator, unscathed, thank the Force, and stuffs it into one of the deep pockets of his new vest.

The furred collar has a distinct, musty scent that causes Obi-Wan to sneeze hard enough to vibrate the vocal droid in his throat slightly out of place. It’s a painful movement, and once again Obi-Wan dreads having the bloody thing removed upon mission completion.

Once he has the entire outfit on, he makes his way back into the main part of the shop. He finds Bane browsing the shelves with the usual frown upon his face. He picks up a small, narrow brimmed, gold hat and turns it over in his fingers.

“Now all I need’s is a new hat,” he  mumbles to himself, tossing the fedora back onto the shelf in disgust. His scowl remains.

He does perk up, however, when his eyes land upon a wide-brimmed, preposterous-looking dark hat. His eyes widen, and his mouth opens up in a slight “o” shape as he plucks it from the shelf and fits it on his head.

Obi-Wan can’t help himself. “Nice hat,” he says. “Looks perfect for blending in.”

Obi-Wan doesn’t have to see Bane’s face to know it isn’t a pleasant look he’s receiving. He smiles as he grabs a helmet from an alcove -- Mandalorian, by the looks of it.

Bane passes by him. _“I_ don’t need to hide under a helmet.”

Obi-Wan rolls his eyes at Bane’s back, and slides the helmet on over his head. It’s a decent fit, if a bit dusty with a crack along the visor. Obi-Wan pulls it back off, and taps it against the side of the shelf to clear out the inside as best as he can.

That’s when Eval scurries out the way Obi-Wan just came, tugging his new chestplate into place. Obi-Wan gives him a sour look as Eval passes by. At least this means he can’t be killed by a stray blaster bolt. Unfortunately.

It isn’t long before Pablo seemingly materializes out of thin air, tapping his fingers together in a show of poor patience. He edges after Bane first, and Obi-Wan assumes that must only be because Bane is the only one of them that has actually been here before.

“Is there anything else you desire, huh? A new ship?” Pablo asks, tilting his head up at Bane with a slick, salesman’s smirk.

Bane sticks a toothpick between his teeth from a small box he must have grabbed off of one of the shelves, moving it around with his tongue. “Your choice of weapons is lousy, Pablo,” he says, pushing the shop owner away from him. “Where can I get some _quality_ blasters?”

Pablo sighs out a laugh, clearly not hearing the threat in the Duros’ tone, “Ah, I wouldn’t be too picky, being on the run like _you_ obviously are.”

Bane reacts without hesitation, one moment holding his toothpick out between his thumb and forefinger, and the next slamming the Rodian trader into a precarious shelf of goods, toothpick pressed against his throat like a vibrodagger. It may as well have been one, in the hands of someone as dangerous as Cad Bane.

“I’d keep my mouth shut if I were you, Pablo,” Bane says, a sharp edge in his level voice.

Pala rushes between the two from amid the labyrinth of shelves, brown eyes wide and a hand to her mouth as she begs in Huttese.

“Puh-lee stah,” she whimpers in broken Basic. Bane ignores her.

Unperturbed, he jams the tiny splinter of wood deep into Pablo’s throat, until only a thin point is visible around the gargling, green throat. Bane pulls another one out of the pack at his hip, and pinches it between his teeth . “We’ll get our weapons elsewhere,” he says, and releases the shopkeeper.

Pablo collapses to the floor, suctioned fingers wrapped around his throat as he gags. Bane does nothing to acknowledge them as he walks past Obi-Wan, simply saying, “Thanks for the hat.”

Eval follows close behind him, like a fly to a rotting carcass. Obi-Wan shakes his head at the display, and fishes out a couple of wupiupi he had found burrowed deep in the pocket of his trousers.

“For your trouble,” he says and holds them out, trying to sound as kind as he can with that infernal voice modulator in his throat.

For the first time since arriving within the shop, Pala displays something aside from submissiveness. The Twi’lek slaps the coins out of his hand, snarling at him in a bastardized mixture of Huttese and Ryl.

Obi-Wan fights the urge to apologize, guilt bubbling up in the back of his mind, before remembering that it won’t do any good here. He’s supposed to be a hardened criminal.

It had been so much easier when he’d only been surrounded by inmates.

He nods once and exits the shop. He doesn’t stop to pick up his money

* * *

 

Obi-Wan’s eyes begin to sting and he tastes dust in his mouth as soon as he steps out of Pablo’s shop. The greasy moisture in the air pastes the layers of his new clothes to him with sweat. Obi-Wan tugs the armorweave away from his throat with one finger, and scans the crowded boulevard until he spots Bane and Eval already a few buildings ahead of him.

It isn’t difficult to find them. Not with a hat like _that._

He jogs after them, making sure not to move too quickly lest he alert any guards to some manner of suspicious activity. Bane glances over at him with disinterest when he gets close enough.

“That trader’s had worse threats than yours, Bane,” Obi-Wan says, cocking a thumb back at the shop. “Probably calling the Hutts right now, seeing what kind of bounty there is on us.”

“I’d like to see him try that without a voice box,” Bane replies snidely.

“He had an _assistant,_ idiot.”

“It ain’t like she’ll do shit. She--”

“Calling the Hutts?” Eval’s eyes widen nervously, and he tenses at three guards slightly down the road, as if ready to run. Bane places a hand on his shoulder to hold him in place, while he uses the other to tip his hat down.

“Relax. On this slime pool, everyone’s an outlaw,” he says, with utter assurance. “Besides, they’ll be looking for three of us, so we’re splitting up. You find a ship.” Bane tilts his head at Obi-Wan, and the Jedi Master doesn’t trust his look, his voice, _or_ his plan in the slightest. “We’ll get weapons.”

“Hold on.” Obi-Wan cuts in, stopping Bane with a hand on his chest. Bane twitches at the unsolicited contact, but he does stop. “If it’s all the same to you, _I’ll_ get the weapons.”

“It’s not the same to me.” Bane pushes Obi-Wan’s hand aside and jabs a finger against his shoulder. “ _You_ crashed the ship,” another jab, “ _You_ get a new one.”

Bane holds him with a cutting look for a moment longer, and then trudges ahead. Eval begins to follow before pausing beside Obi-Wan.

“It does seem fair,” he says, turning around with a shrug, before sauntering off as well.

Obi-Wan sighs, and puts on his helmet. A Jedi Master being schooled on exactitude by a couple of criminals. What _is_ the galaxy coming to?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ***Warning for attempted noncon and Moralo Eval being a generally stalky, rapey, uncomfortable sort of fellow. Don't worry, though. At some point Obi-Wan does beat the snot out of him***
> 
> Dictionary  
> * **Kon tee mi** : Unhand me (Huttese)  
> * **Osik** : Shit (Mando'a)*
> 
> Misc. Notes  
> *The proper name for the ship Obi-Wan anakins into the swamp is a HCT-2001 Dragonboat-class Freighter, or a Trandoshan slave ship. Don't ask me why I know this, just know that I do.  
> *Whirlbats are an animal native to Nal Hutta. Are they the things we see in the tv show? Idfk, but it's close-fucking-enough.  
> *Wupiupi- a golden currency used by the Hutts (worth about 0.625 Republic credits apiece)  
> *The layers of the atmosphere (at least on Earth. Yes, I used Earth atmospheres for Nal Hutta, shh) are as follows, from closest to Earth itself to space: Troposphere, Stratosphere, Mesosphere, Thermosphere, and Exosphere. Never say you didn't learn anything from fanfic!  
> *Juma-head basically means "drunk idiot".  
> *Bilbo, USA. That is all.  
> *Nal-Huttese isn't *actually* the name of Huttese writing. It's actually just the name of the font people on Geocities created back in the Stone Ages. Accept it.  
> *Rutian means a blue Twi'lek  
> *No, Pala isn't actually her name. I just really like to name secondary characters and give them complex backstories for no good reason.  
> *I'm operating under the assumption that Rako Hardeen is Mandalorian (he's from Concord Dawn for fuck's sake -- Jango Fett's homeplanet) so, yes, he's gonna be speaking Mando'a. Also, those cheekbones were a dead giveaway. ALL Mandalorians have amazing cheekbones.  
> *Okay. Now, if they had Obi-Wan shave his head, I assume it would be because his hair wouldn't change with the Space Polyjuice Potion, right? Ergo, that means the hair on the *rest* of his body would remain the same. Hmm...? What I'm trying to say is his disguise has quite a few flaws (which I am going to exploit because I can).  
> *Armorweave= cloth armor.  
> *Some lines taken from the Clone Wars episode "Friends and Enemies" (Season 4 Episode 16)  
> *Follow me on [**Tumblr.shit**](http://poplitealqueen.tumblr.com) for more up-to-date updates on this fic, sneak previews of things to come (under the Frisson au tag), as well as just to see me constantly bitch about stuff (I'm told my bitching is very entertaining).


	4. Friends and Enemies Part 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm listening to the _Lost Woods_ song from The Legend of Zelda: Ocarina of Time OST while I post this, so my mind is being pulled in two very different style directions right now.
> 
> The Star Wars/LoZ AU will come later, brain. Calm thyself. Focus. _Focus_. (currently headbanging to _Gerudo Valley_. Duhduhduhduh-DUHDUHDUH. Fucking hyyyype. Is Breath of the Wild out yet?)
> 
> ...oh shit right, this is a summary for my fic. Uhm. Anakin needs a better bullshit meter. Yeah. There ya go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am posting this right now thanks to a very lovely anon over on Tumblr.shit that reminded me that I r gewd writur. It's a bit shorter than usual (half of it still needs a good scrubbing) so expect the rest sometime later this week! Thanks for waiting, yolks, and for reading.
> 
> Hugs and smooches and vigorous high-fives for the less physical lovey-dovey kind,
> 
> -Pop
> 
> PS: This was beta'd by the lovely [ideordinal](http://ideordinal.tumblr.com/). She is a very lovely bean. You should worship her.

Anakin stares at the holo until his eyes begin to water, memorizing each line and angle in Hardeen’s face, until the man’s features are burned into his retinas, until he can see it without even needing to look at his picture.

“Sir?”

Anakin breaks his attention away from it to look up at the owner of the voice.

“Yeah, Rex?”

“The Chancellor can speak with you now.”

Pocketing the holo, Anakin stretches his legs out and stands up. He’s surprised he’s able to see his friend this quickly -- sometimes, even when the Chancellor had been the one to set an appointment between them, Anakin has needed to wait while the Chancellor digs himself out of a literal hole of budgets, bills and galactic affairs and Senate nonsense. It has always been irritating, whether it be for the Chancellor or for Padmé. -- but Anakin isn’t going to question it.

“Thanks, Rex. You’re relieved from babysitting duty now,” Anakin says, and smiles slightly at the Captain. Rex is a good soldier, but even he doesn’t like being stuck with missions like this.

As if on cue, Rex stands up a little taller, straightening his back to stand at attention.

“Apologies, sir, but the Jedi Council gave me explicit orders accompany you outside of the Temple.”

“That must be fun for you,” Anakin sighs. “You can speak freely with me, Rex.”

Rex nods, his helmet eyes catching a few rays of sun flashing in through a nearby transparisteel window. “I don’t like babysitting, sir, and I don’t think you’re stupid enough to go after that kark-head without backup.”

Anakin chuckles softly. “If I’m about to go against the Council, I’m not having you court martialed for going along with me.” He pats Rex on his pauldron. The Captain is buzzing with energy and anger in the Force, and a desperate need to retaliate. A soldier’s reaction, and Anakin can relate. “But I’ll keep you abreast of the situation, okay?”

That obviously isn’t what he wants to hear, but Rex ducks his chin in agreement nonetheless as the doors of the Chancellor’s chambers slide open.

His mind is still on Hardeen when he is finally granted access into the Chancellor’s private suite, and, as has become the custom between them, His Excellency greets Anakin with a smile and a beckoning hand for him to sit down.

“I apologize for the delay, dear boy,” The Chancellor says.

“It’s alright, your Excellency. You’re a very busy man,” Anakin replies, taking one of the seats on the other side of the Chancellor’s desk. “Is there a reason you wanted to see me?”

Chancellor Palpatine’s demeanor softens. “Is it not natural to want to ease the pain of a close friend in grief?” he asks.

Anakin stiffens in his seat, his hand surreptitiously going to where he had stowed the holoprojector. “It’s appreciated, but true ease won’t come until his murderer is brought to justice.”

“Of course. I think much the same.” The Chancellor’s attention shifts, his chin angling down towards Anakin’s pocket. “What’s that you have there?”

“This?” Anakin all but slams the sensitive tech into the desk, and he sees the Chancellor twitch back in surprise. “This is him. Along with Cad Bane and --”

“--Moralo Eval.” The Chancellor shuts his eyes and nods. “Yes, I know him well.”

“How do you know about him?” he asks.

“Oh, I shouldn’t say. I wouldn’t want you to worry.”

Those words sending flashing lights blaring through Anakin’s head. “Chancellor, what has he tried to do?”

Palpatine waves off his question. “Nothing, my dear boy. Nothing at all. Only empty threats.”

Anakin’s teeth grind. “Threats?”

Palpatine steeples his fingers and sits back, “Has the Council not told you? Eval was plotting to kidnap me when we captured him. Now that he is free, well…” The Chancellor takes a sip of his tea, but Anakin catches the tremor in his other hand as he slides it out of sight beneath the desk. “I trust you and the Jedi to protect me.”

“... I’ll defer to your wiser judgement, your Excellency,” At the mention of the Jedi, Anakin slumps back against his seat and forcibly tries to calm himself down. He almost does so completely, no, when the Chancellor’s private comm channel chimes.

Anakin starts to excuse himself, but he Chancellor raises a wrinkled a hand, silently telling him to remain. Anakin doesn’t hesitate -- he’s sat in on private calls with the Chancellor before, and the fact he’s trusted enough to do so has always meant a great deal to him -- and settles back into his seat as Palpatine activates the desk’s holoprojector.

Anakin stiffens in his seat, and the Chancellor smiles warmly at the small projection.

“Master Windu, you have news regarding the fugitives for me?”

 

***

 

“Why are you removing the bounty on the three fugitives?”

Windu’s small holographic form shifts almost imperceptibly. “If they’re free to move, they could lead us back to Eval’s operation,” he explains succinctly. “It’s the wisest course of action at this time, Chancellor.”

Palpatine makes a show of giving the matter some thought. “Very well. Keep me appraised.” He says, and ends the transmission with a gentle smile. With that done, he tents his fingers and turns back to the most important matter at hand, currently sitting on the opposite side of his desk. “You look troubled, Anakin.”

The boy’s lips tighten and he glares daggers into the tabletop.

“How can they expect me to just sit here and do nothing with Obi-Wan’s murderer on the loose?” Anakin smacks his fist into the arm of his chair and stands up. The Force sparks in the air around him.

Palpatine enjoys encouraging Anakin’s anger. It never fails to amuse him. “It is possible that they do not trust you to control your feelings.”

The Force boils.  “Hardeen killed my Master, my _best friend_ ,” Anakin spits out, pacing towards the wide viewport behind Palpatine’s seat, “and now he’s escaping with Cad Bane and Moralo Eval, and the Jedi Council won’t do anything about it!”

At that point, Palpatine chooses to complete the unsavory task of easing Anakin’s fury. It rankles to do so, but, fortunately, it is only a temporary salve to encourage a wider wound. He pushes his seat away from his desk, and stands up himself with a well-timed grunt of effort.

“I have it from a reliable source that the fugitives were last seen headed towards Nal Hutta,” he says, shuffling over and coming to a stop only a little ahead of the younger man, to feign some level of polite distance. The Force pulses around Anakin;  it’s always the most potent at times like this, and Palpatine feeds on it like a leech. All while keeping the passive face of the Chancellor. “You cannot deny your feelings, Anakin. They are what make you special.”

Anakin’s gaze clears a little, much to Palpatine’s displeasure, and the young man looks down at him with a semblance of hope. “If you know that, you could send an entire battalion to apprehend them.” the hopeful look droops. “Pardon my forwardness, but why haven’t you yet, your Excellency? These men are dangerous. They want you dead.”

“The decision must be ratified by a Senate vote. Those three were not the only ones that escaped the prison, and there are many senators that want their planets protected first and foremost from possible returning undesirable,” Palpatine says, chillingly calm. “I am sorry, my boy. If it were my will alone, every available resource would be at your disposal to bring Rako Hardeen and his cohorts back into custody. But, as it stands, I cannot spare the necessary clonepower nor any of your fellow Jedi themselves for the task.” Palpatine looks out of his viewport at the expanse of Coruscant heaving with life below. “They will not touch me, I’m sure.”

He senses the dark shadow returning to Anakin, and Palpatine cannot help but smirk.

“I could stop them, your Excellency. I won’t… I can’t have another friend put into danger because of that man.”

Palpatine waits a beat before turning, and steps closer to Anakin. “If you believe you can stop this plot against me, I trust you,” says Palpatine, “and you can trust me to keep your… _sitters_ at a distance, so that you can do what needs be done.”

Anakin’s face appears almost frozen in a rictus of ferocity. Palpatine thrives on it.

“Thank you, Chancellor,” he finally says, before departing without his usual polite farewell. “You won’t regret this.”

Palpatine smiles at his back, the same gentle tilt of the lips that he had given to Windu.

“No, I won’t.”

 

* * *

 

“Soon as we have a ship, we ditch Hardeen,” Bane growls.

Eval glances over his shoulder. Hardeen is already lost in the crowd.

“Really?” he says, a slight smile curving his lips.

Bane rubs a bit of dust between two fingers. “We’ll throw him to the Hutts,” he says. “While they interrogate him, we’ll be long gone.”

Eval stops in on the side of the boulevard and half-turns to Bane. “Tell me, is this business or _personal?”_

The way Eval says personal leaves Bane looking at him with thinly veiled contempt. Bane squints down at him, shifting the toothpick in his mouth around with his tongue before pulling it out and flicking it onto the ground.

_“Both.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Some lines taken from the Clone Wars episode "Friends and Enemies" (Season 4 Episode 16)


	5. Friends and Enemies Part 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You know, things. They happen. Possibly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A big damn thank you for getting me up to 7k hits, and nearly to 400 kudos as well! I love you, peeps. Hopefully this chapter will break that number, huh? Right? Right. The next chapter should be up sometime in the middle of the week, possibly the weekend. We'll see how things go. (If I get to 400 kudos before than, however, I will post the chapter immediately. Like, tomorrow immediately. Scout's honor.)
> 
> As always, thank you for reading and reviewing and I hope you enjoy. (I love writing Bane.)
> 
> -Miss Pop
> 
> PS: This chapter was beta'd by the aweseome _[ideordinal](ideordinal.tumblr.com)_. Any lasting mistakes or wonky bits are the fault of the author herself. She has a very short attention span, and grammar often escapes her.

Huttese shipyards are impossible.

“No, no, no. That’s my final offer.” Obi-Wan insists for the third time. "You're not trying to swindle me, are you?"

The Bith shipmaster knuckles their forehead and continues to argue with him in Bithian. As they circle around the ship, a yacht well past its prime, Obi-Wan makes a show of inspecting the underbelly of the ship and surreptitiously sticks the tracking device he’d slipped from Pablo's shop to the hull.

 _“No, no, no, yourself!”_ The Bithian calls after him, slapping the side of the ship. _“This is a quality 3000 model, still in decent working order.”_ They hold up three fingers. _“I demand at_ least _15 wupiupi.”_

Obi-Wan’s Coruscant breeding nearly has him rolling his eyes at the absurdly low amount, but he holds himself back. He circles around the landing gear and stops in front of the Bith.

“All right, then. It’s a deal.”

Almost exactly as he says that, Obi-Wan spots Bane and Eval making their way down the central lane of the shipyard. Eval has a sniper as tall as he is strapped to his back, and Bane has two blasters in his hip holsters. Obi-Wan immediately notices that neither of them are carrying a weapon for him.

“Oh, good timing,” he says as they saunter up. “Soon as you pay for the ship, we can get moving.”

Eval digs around in his pocket. “With pleasure,” he says, leering at the Bith. Money is exchanged with surprisingly little issue, and the Bith scurries to open the docking back of the ship.

Obi-Wan shifts on his feet and goes over to Bane. “Hey, where’s _my_ weapon?” he asks, pointing with his chin at one of the two blasters.

Bane levers his head at him. “You won’t need it,” he says. “You’re not coming.”

_He can’t be serious._

“Says who?”

Bane ignores him. It’s Eval who answers Obi-Wan as the Phindian begins to climb up the now-open gangway of the yacht.  “He doesn’t want to split his fee for breaking me out of prison. What can you do? And also,” Eval sneers gleefully, “he despises you.”

Obi-Wan looks from him to Bane and back again, weighing his options. “All I know is, I’m not going anywhere without my reward.”

Eval holds up his hands and shrugs. “I’m _sorry_ ," he says, unapologetically. "This is between you two,” and disappears inside the belly of the ship. Bane starts to follow, but Obi-Wan grabs him by one thin wrist and holds tight.

“What’s it gonna be, Bane?” Obi-Wan asks, low. "You really want to cheat me out of my reward?"

Bane gives him a look that would have made a Gundark faint, but just as he’s about to respond, someone shouts from the distance. They turn as one.

Up the road, a crowd of guards -- along with Pablo and his Twi’lek assistant, Pala, from earlier -- are making their way towards them. Pablo lifts a thin blue hand and shouts in another flurry of raspy Huttese. He’s pointing them out.

“We can discuss specifics later.” Obi-Wan drops Bane’s wrist and the bounty hunter moves into the ship. Obi-Wan starts after him.

Bane scoffs and turns around, grabbing Obi-Wan by the shoulder.

“Here’s your reward: I’m not killing you,” he snaps, and presses a button on his gauntlet. Green gas issues forth, clouding around Obi-Wan’s face before he can move out of the way. The burning in his mouth, eyes, and nostrils is unmistakable. Diluted Dioxys gas. The effect is immediate. Obi-Wan’s eyes begin to blur and burn, and he hunches over. Bane takes the opportunity to plant a booted foot against his chest and kick him back down the steps. “See ya, Hardeen.”

Obi-Wan rolls, head over heels, before landing in the dirt. It feels like acid in his eyes and spreading down his throat as he jerks upon the ground. Heavy steps rumble closer to him as the yacht’s loading dock seals closed and the ship lifts off.

Obi-Wan pulls his hands away from his eyes long enough for the wobbly form of a guard to slam a staff into his face. The world goes black.

 

***

 

Obi-Wan comes to with his shackled, inverted body hanging in a Nal Hutta security office, although an interrogation room seems a much more proper assessment. Dark, wet, and with well-armed guards standing beside a table of torture instruments. Yes. Definitely an interrogation room.

He gags on the tang of blood dripping down the back of his throat. The noise alerts his captors, and Obi-Wan feigns confusion.

“What? Where am I?”

“You are a guest of the Hutts.” Their boss, a female Red Nikto, paces back and forth in front of him.

_No, really?_

“And if you don’t answer my questions about your two partners-- “ The charged end of her staff jabs into Obi-Wan’s abdomen, sending a shock throughout his body without any warning. Obi-Wan jerks, gasping as sweat drips from his chin onto his cheek. “-- we will not be so hospitable.”

The Nikto flips her staff around, and rams the grounded end into the same spot on Obi-Wan’s torso. Obi-Wan groans. He is _really_ getting tired of this. Especially when the Nikto makes a show of creating sparks by scraping it along the stone, and holding the electrical tip next to Obi-Wan’s face. _What’s the point of putting on a show like this? I’m already your captive._

“You call _this_ ‘hospitable’?” Obi-wan cranes his neck back as far as he can, eyes widening.

Ill intent pervades the air around his captor, and Obi-Wan -- not much in the mood to be tortured and then sold into slavery to some Hutt -- says fervently to the Nikto’s crotch: “Wait! Torture won’t be necessary.” The Nikto begins to lower her staff. “My partners double-crossed me, but I put a tracking device on their ship.”

“Why should I trust you?” The Nikto demands.

Obi-Wan is too tired to keep up his usual charade. Chances are, he won’t run into this particular guardswoman again. “Because you need the information I have. If you have a different reason for keeping me here, kindly let me know.”

The Nikto frowns, the look turning into a smile from Obi-Wan's point of view.

Obi-Wan rolls his eyes. _“You will let me down,_ ” he says, allowing the Force to echo in his voice, _“ and I will tell you the frequency.”_

The Nikto blinks, “I will let you down," she says in monotone, "and you will tell me the frequency.”

“Yes, quite right. Soon, if you please.” It hurts to keep the Force suggestion going even a short while with the shields Master Yon had put up in his head. Obi-Wan doesn’t think he’ll be able to do much more than this.

The Nikto nods, and must have given some silent signal, because suddenly the clamps around Obi-Wan’s ankles snap open and he topples onto the flagstone.

Very hard, very uncomfortable flagstone that is incredibly good at it’s job. Every bone in Obi-Wan’s body complains at once.

“Now. . .” The Nikto slams the butt of her staff into the stone beside his head, and gets down on one knee beside him. “Tell us the tracking frequency.”

 

* * *

 

“No more excuses, Eval. Time is running short.”

The Count’s voice rises and lowers in pitch -- Eval is pacing. Which means that he’s nervous. Cad drums his fingers on the handle of his blaster holster. A nervous psychopath isn’t the kind he wants to be stuck in a ship with.

Eval grunts out a few more “yes, sirs” and “of course, my lords” and “soon, very soons”, and a single, “Yes, Count Dooku. No more excuses,” that he says almost petulantly, like a child too scared to argue with a parent directly, before cutting the transmission. A bright blip signifies the holoprojector shutting down, and Cad does the same with the intercom system as Eval ambles back up to the front.

Eval sits down in the copilot’s seat, and gives Cad a desperate, wild-eyed look.

“What in the hells do you think he wanted to know about Hardeen for?” he asks.

Cad shrugs. “Hardeen probably owed him some credits.”

“No, no,” Eval brings his right hand up to his mouth and begins to tear at his cuticles with his teeth. “There’s something else at play here, something we aren’t aware of. Something more. Moralo Eval knows it, and Hardeen is at its center.”

Cad narrows his eyes at the smudged viewport in front of him. “I ain’t going back.”

Eval issues short, manic laugh, and then goes back to nibbling at his nails. “Nor does Moralo Eval want that. He prefers freedom.”

“So what’s the problem, then?”

“Nothing.” Eval pulls his hand away from his mouth and moves it down to one of the armrests on his chair. He visibly starts to calm down, and his vernacular switches back to first person along with it.  “Count Dooku only requires me. Anyone else is unnecessary.”

Cad pushes the brim of his hat out of his eyes, and takes the opportunity to check the gauges on his gauntlet. Optimal.

“You said it yourself, Eval. You’re free now. That means my job is done,” he drawls out. “I want my money.”

 _“After_ the weapons and the ship, I have very few credits left,” Eval replies. “You’ll be paid when we reach Serenno.”

Cad is about to argue that Serenno wasn’t part of their deal -- the last time he’d gotten too involved the Separatists had been one of his most unprofitable ventures to date, and he’d been hired to get Eval out of prison, that was it -- when a blast rumbles through the ship.

Eval grips the dashboard, poised at the edge of his seat. “What is this? Who's attacking us?!”

A Starhopper zips into view ahead of them, and their ship stutters as another laser hits it. Cad knows there are at least two other ships on their tail; Nal Hutta security pods always work in groups of threes.

“The Hutts!” Cad follows the ship with his eyes as it banks to starboard, but has no way to dodge when another round of blasts shakes through the bulkhead. The yacht has too large of a turn radius to out-maneuver the smaller Hutt ships, and no speed to outrun them.

“How did they find us so quickly?” Eval demands.

There’s only one explanation. Cad is amazed this self-proclaimed genius hasn’t figured it out yet.

“Hardeen trying to even the score,” he says, and he experiences a moment of unwarranted respect for the man. Cad didn’t think Hardeen had it in him, after how soft he’d been with that shopkeeper’s assistant.

That doesn’t mean he isn’t going to kill the idiot. If Hardeen is still alive, that is.

Another blast shivers through the bulkhead, and the sound of the aft engine sputtering for breath preludes the entire ship beginning to list.

“The engines are fried.” Bane says, already angling the yacht towards the swamps below. If they can ditch the ship, they should at least be able to make it back to Bilbousa without getting caught. It isn’t the best option, but it's their only one. “We’ll have to turn back.”

 

***

 

The transport rocks as it slides through the upper layer of Nal Hutta’s atmosphere, but Serenus hardly notices it. His mind is elsewhere. It’s never a safe practice to meditate while one is in a starfighter, no matter how advanced the autopilot. Serenus is sure Jard would lock him away for his own safety if he knew.

Luckily, he doesn’t, and besides. Serenus needs to meditate.

There aren’t many places that Hardeen can hide. Serenus will begin with the communal landing pad and fan out from there. Perhaps the saloon first, or the jail cells. Hardeen will not be able to run from him.

The transport rocks again, but it isn’t from the atmosphere. Serenus tightens his fists, and calms the Force around him.

 

***

 

 _“Twa pankpa hatkocanh doube_ crash _dah bu planeeto. Doth heee bai chana bu_ fugitives." The Nikto captain nods at the report and gestures lazily at Obi-Wan. "Restrain the prisoner."

Obi-Wan tenses as the guards put him back upside-down once again, every ache in his body jolting with the sudden change. He can’t fight off two Gamorrean guards and the Nikto without one of them getting away, and as much as he wants to, it would be unfair to kill them for simply doing their jobs.

So he lets himself be thrust right back to square one, and waits until the two Gamorrean guards leave. The Nikto captain is last, taking a moment to look over Obi-Wan’s belongings a few feet away. She starts to leave.

“You found the ship, like I said.” Obi-Wan calls after her. "Honor our deal."

The guard gives him one over-the-shoulder look.

“Our deal was, you’d let me go now,” Obi-Wan reminds her, trying his utmost to keep the sentence from sounding sarcastic. He isn’t quite sure how well that works.

The Nikto chuckles at him and turns back around. “The deal has changed.”

_And with that unoriginal line, I believe that I’ve had enough of this nonsense._

Obi-Wan bends up at the torso and concentrates the Force on the shackles around his ankles. They click open, and he lands silently on the balls of his feet. The Nikto doesn’t turn around, not even when Obi-Wan pulls her electrostaff into his hand.

Oh, sweet irony.

Obi-Wan tosses the staff to his other hand and taps the metallic end on the ground. The sound echoes throughout the room. Just as the Nikto turns, Obi-Wan slams the shaft into her face and she goes down. It’s almost anticlimactic, really.

“You’re welcome for not electrocuting you,” Obi-Wan says, as he trades the staff for his helmet. He honestly can’t believe they’d decided to keep the ugly thing, but it is better than having to find a new one. He fits it back onto his head, and makes his way out of the dungeon.

Sneaking out of the jail is a cakewalk after the Central Detention Center. Once Obi-Wan is back out on the streets, he steals between the pustuled roots that make up the foundations of most of the central buildings and makes his way towards the center of town.

While sneaking down a small alley, something catches at the back of Obi-Wan’s mind. It’s enough to make the hair on the back of his neck stand on end and he turns, left than right, his heart hammering in his throat.

He senses him again. Closer. Less than a street away.

Nearly frantic, Obi-Wan calls upon the Force to help propel him up onto a nearby roof. The sedgy material squishes beneath his boots, and he jumps again. Soon he’s a few buildings away, nestled in an alcove on a roof. Obi-Wan surveys the surroundings, with his eyes and the Force. The threat is past, yet it’s still difficult to breathe.

He sits down, tucks his legs beneath him, and shuts his eyes. He allows his presence first to relax, and then to expand in the Force just enough to verify that, yes, that was Serenus he had felt. 

Obi-Wan quickly cuts the connection, shoring up Toba Yon’s shields with his own mental power before rising to his feet.

He can avoid Serenus easily enough, but Mace and Yoda really do need to remember to keep their blasted promises.

He scales the roots embedded into the buildings until he’s to the top of one of the tallest buildings in the town, and pulls out his comm. Thank the Force for terrible body searches. He switches the instrument on and waits patiently for someone to pick up.

Static.

More static.

Obi-Wan can’t believe this. They’re away from the communications array in the Temple. He takes a deep, annoyed breath and waits until he knows a message will be recorded. Whatever took them away from their posts, he hopes it was worth it.

“This is Ben,” Obi-Wan begins. “ I apologize for being out of communication, but the situation was rather tenuous. You won’t believe who I’ve just sensed nearby. Superb job at keeping him out of an already irksome equation, by the way.” Obi-Wan’s eyes drift up, settling on a black contrail snaking behind a familiar-looking ship. “Although it now appears things may be on track soon.

“Here’s what I need. Have the bounty on us removed. If I can win over Cad Bane, I can learn more about Eval’s plot… but there can be no more complications. So no matter what reports you hear, do not contact me or send help.”

With the easy requests out of the way, Obi-Wan goes for the one that will almost certainly have a vein popping in the former Grandmaster’s forehead. Not that he doesn’t deserve it.

“Oh, and one more thing. I shall need enough credits to buy a new ship.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Yoda and Mace were totally off dealing with the fact that Anakin and his Padawan just up and fucking _disappeared_ to hunt down Hardeen. Ofc, they won't tell Obi-Wan that. Oh no. That'd be too easy.  
>  *Some lines taken from the Clone Wars episode "Friends and Enemies" (Season 4 Episode 16)
> 
> **Huttese Translations**
> 
>  _Twa pankpa hatkocanh doube crash dah bu planeeto. Doth heee bai chana bu fugitives._ = Their ship will soon crash on the planet. Be there to capture the fugitives.


	6. Friends and Enemies Part 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As much as I want Cad Bane and Obi-Wan to screw in this fic, it isn't gonna happen. It doesn't fit in with the narrative. (Aka a narrative where I have Obi-Wan and Sith Qui-Gon having sex, er, constantly, once they actually meet). Still, one can dream and hint at ♪sexual tension♪.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I won't lie to you guys, I did _not_ think you'd get me past 400 kudos in a day. I'm very happy to be proven wrong, but that explains the length of this particular chapter, yes? But scout's honor is scout's honor! I have another challenge for readers, too (one I'm convinced can't happen in a day, *phew). If I can get to 450 kudos within the next few days, I'll post the next chapter immediately. If not, expect the it next weekend, as per usual.
> 
> As I am always saying, thank you for reading and reviewing and enjoying. And thanks for the 400, seriously. That made my day.
> 
> \- Miss Pop
> 
> PS: All mistakes are mine this chapter. I am beta-less! *sob*

From his seat on the saloon patio, Obi-Wan can see every single person that passes by. It isn’t long before he spots the two he had been waiting for, looking much worse for wear than they had when leaving him.

Obi-Wan calls out before they can pass him by, raising his glass in celebration. “Ah, back so soon?”

Bane pauses at the sound of his voice, and grabs Eval by the back of the neck before he can wander off even further. It’s rather comical to see Bane steer his charge around and point Obi-Wan out to him, and even funnier when the two tromp over to him as if headed towards their own execution.

Obi-Wan swirls his glass nonchalantly in his hand, the stem between his middle and forefinger as Bane and Eval reach the beginning of the wooden veranda stairs.

He is definitely enjoying this much more than necessary.

“Let me guess, “ he says, bringing the glass of expensive liquor up to his lips. “You missed me.”

The tart spirit only barely passes his lips when Bane races up the creaking wooden steps and grabs Obi-Wan by the furred edge of his jacket, dragging him out of his seat, and slamming him down into a nearby table. Glasses break, patrons scatter, servers complain, and Bane ignores them in favor of a truly murderous look directed right at Obi-Wan.

Fair enough, so it was  _ his  _ execution they had been tromping toward. Understandable.

Bane reeks of fuel exhaust and the swamps this close, and his eyes are slits of bright crimson. He presses the nozzle of his gauntlet close enough that Obi-Wan could have kissed it if he so wished, and bares yellow fangs.

“I should kill you where you stand,” Bane hisses.

“Technically, I’m not standing,” Obi-Wan replies.

The Duros snarls.

Obi-Wan struggles in his grip, but Bane is much stronger than his thin physique shows. “Kill me and you won’t get off Nal Hutta!” he says.

Bane doesn’t move, until he’s physically whipped back by Eval.

“Moralo Eval is running out of time  _ and  _ patience.” The Phindian growls, and squints at Obi-Wan. “Let the man talk.”

Obi-Wan coughs and hacks as he sits up, loosening the neckline of his armorweave. “Look, I’ve got a ship.” he says. “You’ve got Hutts on your tails, so you make me a partner in everything.”

Eval pinches his lips close together, buggy eyes narrowing. For once there isn’t some obscene look of lust hanging about him -- he really  _ must  _ be eager to leave, or terrified of something. Obi-Wan decides to be thankful for that.

Eval hisses out a short breath. “Your deal is accepted.” he says, and leaves it at that. 

“No.” Bane snaps, blocking Obi-Wan’s path with one hand on his chest. _ Again.  _ “First, I wanna know where you got the credits to buy a ship.”

Obi-Wan brushes his hand off. “You thought you left me for dead,” he says, “but the Hutts owed me a favor.”

“So you had them shoot us  _ down _ ?” Bane leans forward, fangs bared, and Obi-Wan physically pushes him back in response.

“You would’ve done the same thing, Bane,” he says, and Bane almost seems to scowl in agreement. Almost. “The way I see it, we’re even now.”

Bane’s scowl deepens, and Obi-Wan can see his fingers tapping on the holster of his blaster. His hand even wraps around the handle, but doesn’t draw it. His eyes look down at it, and then back at Obi-Wan. There’s something there, something Obi-Wan can’t place. It could almost be respect.

“Fine. We’re even.” Bane says, and unwraps his fingers from around the handle. “But don’t think this means I’m suddenly gonna start likin’ you.”

Obi-Wan smiles stiffly at him, and shrugs. “Same to you,  _ shabuir _ .”

“Now that we’re all  _ friends _ ,” Eval cuts in, his voice a low, deadly hiss. “Get me off this festering stink-hole.” He pushes roughly through the crowd, and slips back onto the crowded boulevard. Bane and Obi-Wan follow.

“Wait! Who's gonna pay for this mess?” The Ithorian bartender demands.

Obi-Wan turns around and tosses a few wuipupi the Ithorian’s way, and smirks. “There’s a little extra in there. You never saw us.”

 

***

 

The new ship Obi-Wan had been able to purchase isn’t as large or grand as the yacht, but it’s cheap and it’s sturdy.There won’t be any Hutt ships trying to blast this one out of the sky, at least. It was also the only one the Bith shipmaster had allowed him anywhere near after the whole debacle from earlier. The Bith calls them something in Bith that roughly translates to  _ “bad for business”  _ as Eval swipes the ignition lock from their hand. 

“Hey, we’ll be out of your hair soon. No more bad business for you,” Obi-Wan says.

The Bith waves them off with one dismissive hand.

“So about your fee from Eval: a 50/50 split sounds fair to me,” Obi-Wan says to Bane as they begin to board the ship. “How about you?”

“Over my dead corpse,” Bane responds, waving the thought away like a bad stench. It’s still one of the nicer things the bounty hunter has ever said to him.

“Don’t tempt me!” Obi-Wan says, and smirks to himself when Bane’s only response rude hand gesture. Maybe he’s finally discovered the secret to getting Cad Bane to like you: be a decent bounty hunter that fails to kill him. Easier said than done.

Obi-Wan doesn’t notice the Jedi shuttle landing beside them until Eval has their well in the air, and he doesn’t get a chance to see who exits out of it before the ground is lost beneath a layer of green-yellow clouds.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Yes it's exactly who you think that's getting off that shuttle. Bwahaha!  
> *Why is Obi-Wan speaking Mando'a. Well, considering Rako Hardeen was from the same planet as Jango Fett (Concord Dawn), I thought it would be fun for Rako Hardeen to be Mandalorian (also, have you see those cheekbones? All Mandalorians have amazing cheekbones). It also gives me an excuse to practice Mando'a so win-win.  
> *Obi-Wan didn't need to get a drink or pay the bartender. He did it to piss of the Council, as anyone would.  
> *Some lines taken from the Clone Wars episode "Friends and Enemies" (Season 4 Episode 16)
> 
> **Mando'a Translations**  
>  _shabuir:_ extreme insult - "jerk", but much stronger


	7. Friends and Enemies, Part 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ♪Mountains come out of the sky and they stand there  
> One mile over we'll be there and we'll see you  
> Ten true summers we'll be there and laughing too  
> Twenty four before my love you'll see  
> I'll be there with you♪
> 
> If you don't watch Jojo's Bizarre Adventure, you're missing out on a lot. Particularly bara tiddies and bromance. And also one of the best Yes songs ever.
> 
> Oh yeah, and in this chapter we get back to my fave bromance (Ahsoka and Anakin) and FINALLY Serenus gets to meet up with someone. Things are gonna get _especially_ good from here on out, yolks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I said I'd wait for 450 kudos, but then a truly kind human (who chose to remain anonymous) made me FUCKING FANART. A PICTURE OF SERENUS YOU GUYS, IT'S SO GOOD. [Here's a link to the post proper on Tumblr.shit](http://poplitealqueen.tumblr.com/post/155663429034/sorry-in-advance-if-theres-any-weird-compression), but I'll also include it at the end of this chapter because, AH. It's just so good! It definitely warrants a surprise update!
> 
> But despite that, I've still gotten way closer to my kudos goal than I thought. Thank you, peeps, for leaving feedback like that. It makes posting worth it. How about we shoot for 500 now, huh? Same dealio as the last couple times: if it gets to 500 before this weekend, I'll post the next chapter early. If not, expect the chapter by Saturday or Sunday.
> 
> Thanks for reading and reviewing, folks, and, as always my dear, please enjoy.
> 
> -Miss Pop
> 
> PS: Any and all mistakes are my own and I love being called out on them. Go ahead. Do it. Please.

“What makes you think Obi-Wan’s murderer is on Nal Hutta?’ Ahsoka asks, once both she and Anakin are clear of the transport.

“I got a tip from the Chancellor himself.” Anakin explains, just short of smugly, and Ahsoka raises one tattooed brow at him, and huffs out a breath. “He should have told you to bring a platoon of clone troopers, too.”

“Hey.” Anakin pauses rubs his hand through his hair, looking around him at the unfamiliar territory. “... you’re right.”

Ahsoka side-eyes him. “We’re not supposed to be here, are we?”

“Uh...no.” Anakin gives her an apologetic look. “Surprise?”

The loading gantry seals shut with a soft hiss behind them, and they turn into the town of pus-and-mud buildings. “You could have just told me that back on the shuttle,” says Ahsoka.

“What can I say, Snips? I like to seem mysterious.”

Ahsoka rolls her eyes, and looks around the yellowed landscape. “So how are we gonna find them?”

Anakin looks around himself, squinting as a warm, swampy rain begins to drizzle down. “Ahsoka, you should know by now. If you want to find a lowlife…” he begins.

“...you start at the saloon,” Ahsoka finishes, pointing over to a crowded building built into a giant pustuled tree. “That looks like a good candidate.”

Anakin looks up at the sign. “Congrats, you’re right. You know, I should really teach you how to read Nal-Huttese.”

“I read it just now!”

“No, you didn’t. You just guessed.”

Ahsoka smiles. “I used the Force.”

Now it's Anakin's turn to roll his eyes.

They wander into a throng of native Huttese, sticking next to each other like tar. Ahsoka finds that the closer they get to the saloon, the darker Anakin’s mood becomes.

“Master, what will we do when we find him?” she says, worried about the answer. It isn’t so much that she disagrees with the fact that Rako Hardeen is dangerous and needs to be punished, but more that she sees the negative way it affects her Master. Ahsoka has never been afraid of Anakin. She never will be, but the way he is now… it unsettles her.

“We’ll capture him, and bring him to justice.” Anakin says simply.

“What’s _that_ mean?”

“Exactly what I said,” Anakin responds cryptically, and lays a hand on her shoulder. “You don’t need to be scared, Snips. We can do this.”

That’s what she’s worried about.

A few minutes later, Anakin and Ahsoka stroll through the patio area of the saloon, and into the crowded interior of the cantina itself. A warm, wet, musty fug hits Ahsoka as soon as they’re inside, and it's even worse than the greasy heat outside. Sweat starts to bead underneath her Akul-tooth headdress, irritating her scalp.

The first set of guards allow them past with no trouble; the second raise their axes up to bar their path.

Ahsoka squares her shoulders and attempts to look intimidating as Anakin force-pushes one of the guards out of the way, and catches the other’s weapon, mentally twisting it out of their hand and sending it cartwheeling across the establishment. It embeds itself into the far wall, nearly beheading one of the patrons.

Unlike on Coruscant, the people in this bar begin to cheer and applaud the spectacle, hooting out encouragement for more in at least twenty different languages.

 _Lowlifes._ Anakin reminds her through their bond, as they move up to the counter set in the center of the building.

The Ithorian bartender recognizes their lightsabers in an instant and sets the glass he had been cleaning on the counter upside-down.

“Jedi,” he says, in way of greeting. The vocabulator hooked around his neck gives his voice a buzzing undercurrent.

Anakin digs a holo out of his pocket, and turns it on. Ahsoka feels a jagged spike of fury through their bond.

“We’re looking for this man. Have you seen him?”

The Ithorian leans across the counter and looks at the hologram carefully. He appears to be weighing his options, and after a moment, he comes to decision with a huff and a groan.

“The fugitives are already gone,” he says, leaning back.

“All _three_ of them were here?” Anakin demands.

The vocabulator glitches out. The bartender fiddles with a bulb before replying, “Two came in, met the third.”

“When did they leave?” Ahsoka chimes in. She doesn’t like just standing here like an ornament.

The Ithorian presses his hands together, and looks to be contemplating something again. “Nothing is free on Nal Hutta,” he finally says.  “Especially informa-- _tcchk!_ ”

Ahsoka turns her face slightly away from the bartender and her Master as the former is lifted into the air by the latter. The sound of him choking fills the suddenly silent room, his vocabulator unable to translate his garbled words. She doesn’t allow how unsettled she feels to pass along her bond with Anakin.

 _“I don’t have time for games.”_ Anakin snarls.

The Ithorian stares down at Anakin with widening eyes. “You-- just... _missed them!”_ he finally chokes out. _“Going...to. Ughhgh.!”_

“Keep talking.” Anakin’s voice is cold, hard, and he doesn’t release the Ithorian.

“I-I heard one of them say they just bought a ship. zzzzzt. That’s all I know, that’s--”

Anakin drops him with little grace, and turns around.

“Let’s go, Snips.”

They make their way out of the building, and the crowd makes a tunnel for them to walk through.

“If he knew they were fugitives, why didn’t he turn them in?” Ahsoka asks, looking up at Anakin.

Anakin rolls his eyes around the room, and each patron cowers when it passes over them.

“Justice doesn’t matter in places like these, only money. They probably paid him to keep his mouth shut.”

They pass next to the axe in the wall, and Anakin pauses beside it.

“Heh, look.”

The axe had just happened to embed itself in a faded poster announcing autographs from a certain famous podracer.

"Stupid." Anakin snorts at the poster. Ahsoka glances at him.

“Master, I thought you liked podracing.” she says.

“I do. I just don’t like Sebulba. He's overrated,” Anakin grumbles in Huttese and tears the poster down on his way out. Nobody stops him.

 

***

 

Once outside, Anakin makes a beeline for the end of town. Ahsoka has to nearly sprint to keep up.

“Where are we going now?” she asks as they make a turn onto a smaller, less crowded side street, and then into an alley. Anakin is cutting as many corners as he can.

“To the shipping yard,” he tells her without turning around, his voice rough, “We can find out what ship was sold to Hardeen and track him from there.”

They turn another corner, and Ahsoka manages to get a bit ahead of him. Anakin almost doesn’t stop when she turns around and plants herself firmly in front of him.

“What’s gonna happen _then?”_ she asks him, hands on her hips.

Anakin feels himself frown. “We’ve already gone over this. I’ll--”

“--bring him to justice, yeah.” To Anakin’s surprise, Ahsoka’s expression morphs into one of worry. “Master, you asked me to come with you. I know the Council doesn't know, but…” she starts, stops, and steadies herself. “But no matter what, I want you to know _I’m_ with you. I trust you.”

It’s only three words, but Anakin senses something deeper, more final about them. He forces himself to relax.

"What are you worried about, Snips? Talk to me."

"I sense something here. Something wrong," Ahsoka says, and her brows twitch together. Her eyes lower, focused on her feet.

Anakin cups his elbows with both hands. “Look, Snips,” he says, gently. “Everything is going to be all right. We have this under con--”

A sudden pain in the Force freezes the words in Anakin’s throat. It’s the kind of pain that makes you grit your jaw tight, wince and squeeze your eyes until it stops. It’s familiar. A sudden Force push sends Ahsoka stumbling back a few feet away from him. Anakin knows exactly who created it before the man behind him even speaks, like a rumble in the Force itself.

“Hello, Ani.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FINA-FUCKING-LY AMIRITE? FINALLY SOME PROPER CHARACTER INTERACTION, AHA!
> 
> ALSO, ISN'T THAT PICTURE BEAUTIFUL? MMM! I wanna just kiss it. It also lets me segue into an important point: if you happen to create any fanart for this, let me know over on [Tumblr!](http://poplitealqueen.tumblr.com/submit) You'll probably get to see me cry over it.
> 
> *that Sebulba poster is totally canon. Don't believe me? Look that shit up. Go to starwars.com and educate your ass on cameos. (I just messed with where the axe landed)  
> *Some lines taken from the Clone Wars episode "Friends and Enemies" (Season 4 Episode 16)


	8. Friends and Enemies, Part 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The mass of the Sun is 2000000000000000000000000000000 kg. (That's 30 zeros) Solar mass is a standard unit of measurement within astronomy, and also for the level of fucks I don't give about any particular situation. What I mean to say is, my lack of fucks may be small matter-wise, but they be _dense_. (Density is mass divided by volume, aka the DMV. My fucks are massive and have a lot of volume to them.) There. You learned a little something-something. Feel smarter yet?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, we have another chapter early thanks to a lovely piece of artwork by an artist that would prefer to remain anonymous. (If you'd like to see it, here's a [link](http://poplitealqueen.tumblr.com/post/155775470389/poplitealqueen-ahsoka-turns-her-face-slightly), but it's also already embedded in the last chapter. It's sooooo-oooo-oo sweet, you guys, makes me drool.)
> 
> As it has always been, expect the next chapter this weekend, Saturday or Sunday, unless awesome outside influence makes me explode in a fit of creative fervor and I get it out a day or so earlier!
> 
> Thanks for reading and reviewing, loves, and, as ever, enjoy.
> 
> (I know I enjoy this chapter. Serenus is fun.)
> 
> -Pop
> 
> PS: All mistakes are painfully and regretfully mine. You can't make a cake unless you break a few cakes... wait. No. Eggs. I meant eggs.

“Hello, Ani.”

Anakin is slammed into a wall before he can act, face pressed into the stinking mould and his arms held rigid at his sides with the Force.

“Master!” Ahsoka shouts, her weapons drawn and humming at her sides.

“Do not move, little one.” Serenus says, as he plucks Anakin’s lightsaber from his belt and puts it on his own. Anakin grinds his teeth together, and slowly starts to push himself out of the hold. He’s nearly free when Serenus clicks his tongue.

More pressure forces Anakin to press his entire body into the building. His fingernails dig little grooves into the soft material, and he groans.

“She wasn’t the only one I was talking to,” Serenus says, pleasantly. “It’s good to see you, Anakin.”

Anakin’s voice is partially muffled by the wall. Where was a street guard when one could actually be _useful?_ _“Kriff off.”_

Serenus makes a disappointed noise, and tilts his chin down, golden eyes flashing. “Now, now. There isn’t any need for this hostility.” Serenus places a hand on Anakin’s shoulder, and the palm is unnaturally warm. “I’m not here to hurt you.”

The whoosh of a plasma blade warns them right before Ahsoka brings her lightsaber slashing between them. Serenus pulls his hand away, but continues to hold Anakin tightly through the Force.

“Don’t. Touch. Him.” Ahsoka snarls.

Anakin can barely turn his head enough to see Ahsoka standing between him and the Sith Lord. He can feel the static in the air raising the hair on his arm.

“Ahsoka, stay back!” Anakin commands, and the young Togruta stiffens, but keeps her lightsabers poised. She glares at the Sith Lord.

Serenus smiles back, and begins to return to Anakin. 

Ahsoka lowers herself into an offensive stance, head low and legs bent close to the ground.

“You’re not coming near him,” she growls.

“Snips.” Anakin digs the heels of his palms into soft wall. “Snips, don’t. Just let him over here. He won’t hurt us.”

Ahsoka sends a suspicious flare across their bond, and Anakin responds gently. _ Don’t worry. He can’t surprise us twice. Put your lightsabers away. _

After a few more seconds of mental debate, Ahsoka straights up and disignites her lightsabers.

Serenus’ dark robes billow around him like a shadow, his eyes the only pinpoint of light on him. They’re focused on Ahsoka as he makes his way back to Anakin.

“My, but she’s grown,”Serenus says as he plucks Anakin’s lightsaber up and holds it lightly in one hand. “Padawans seem to do that too quickly, don’t they?”

“What do you want, Serenus?” Anakin demands, all but spitting out the Sith Lord’s name.

“Perhaps I just wanted to say hello.” Serenus releases him and Anakin stumbles backward before righting himself and turning. He calls his lightsaber back into his mechanical hand and ignites it. Serenus hardly seems to notice, his  gaze burrowing into Anakin’s.

“You’ve said it. Now go.”

Serenus’ eyebrows raise slightly. “You seem troubled.”

“Obi-Wan was killed,” Anakin answers, jaw tightening like the fingers around the hilt of his blade. “So ‘troubled’ is a bit of a kriffing understatement.”

Serenus’ eyelids droop, and the noxious air around him seems to spark with barely contained rage. Beside Anakin, Ahsoka takes a single step back.

“I am aware.” says Serenus, flatly.

“Are you chasing the man that did it?” Anakin asks. “Or are you here to stop me?”

“I believe we’re here for the same thing.” Serenus sighs. “Why don’t you turn your weapon off, and we can talk about it. I imagine both of us wouldn’t care to dally.”

Anakin holds his lightsaber out, the point buzzing less than an inch from Serenus’ aquiline nose. After a moment, where neither of them blink, Anakin pulls the blade back and shuts it off with a single click.

Serenus lets out a breath. “Good,” he says. “What have you learned about Rako Hardeen?” he begins to ask, but Anakin is already walking away with Ahsoka.

“That’s very rude,” Serenus calls after them.

“So is stealing another person’s lightsaber,” Anakin shouts back without turning.  _ Keep going.  _ He tells Ahsoka through the Force.

“I did give it back, you know.” Serenus’ tone is light, almost playful, and it grates on Anakin’s nerves. The man is a murderer -- a Sith. He shouldn’t sound so  _ friendly.  _

“Go  _ away, _ ” Anakin pronunciates slowly, “or I’ll make sure a Republic battle cruiser is here to take you into custody.”

A deep laugh echoes behind them. Serenus was keeping up with them at a slight distance, but he’d stopped. “Ani, I know the Council would never let you go off like this. You’re here alone, aren’t you?”

“He has me,” Ahsoka snaps over her shoulder. Anakin finds that they’ve both stopped now, and that isn’t good. The longer Serenus keeps them here, the farther away Hardeen gets.

Anakin glances over his shoulder as Serenus bows his head. “My apologies, little one. He has you.”

“We don’t have time for this. Come on, Ahsoka. You. Don’t follow us.”

Serenus grins at that, eyes squinting.

 

***

 

Serenus follows them right to the edge of town, where the shipyard lay. The shipmaster is an ungendered, fast-talking Bith that takes one look at them and mutters a few profanities under their breath.

Anakin tells Ahsoka to keep an eye on Serenus, and goes up to the shipmaster, his holo of Hardeen already in his hand. He explains the situation in the succinct, low tone of someone that has had to do it too many times today.

The Bithian looks the holo over once before leaning back, one arm across their chest and the other waving in the air.

“I sold them a ship, but they could not have gotten far,” They say in Bith.

Anakin shuts off the holo.

“How do you know they couldn’t have gotten far?” he asks suspiciously.

“Oh, they don’t need to tell you that.”

Anakin turns around to find Serenus at his shoulder. He shoots a look at Ahsoka, who throws her hands up in the air with a look of ungrateful surrender to the will of the Force.

Anakin grits his molars together. “Yes, they do.”

Serenus nods politely at the Bith, and smiles at Anakin. “I was here earlier. They already told me exactly where we’ll need to go.”

“You aren’t coming with us,” Anakin says, and turns back to the Bith shipkeeper. “Tell us what you told him. We need to know where that ship was heading.”

With a look of put-upon annoyance, the Bith begins to speak, but as they do they suddenly pause and grope at their throat, and their diminutive form starts to lift up into the air.

Anakin’s eyes widen, and he whirls back toward Serenus just as the Sith Lord ignites his lightsaber.

“Don’t--!” But it’s too late. The Bith twitches and then falls back to the ground at Serenus’ feet, a smoking hole through their chest. Ahsoka sucks in a breath, and Anakin feels a jolt of shock (and fear) along their bond.

Serenus clips his lightsaber back to his belt nonchalantly, and gives Anakin a ludic look. “It seems I’m the only one that can tell you where they’re headed now,” he steps over the Bith without a second thought. “We had best be off.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *We are finally starting to creep towards the end of the Friends and Enemies bit. Whoopee! I'd say about two more chapters before we get to the Borg ship Ripoff.  
> *Some lines taken from the Clone Wars episode "Friends and Enemies" (Season 4 Episode 16)


	9. Friends and Enemies, Part 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A03 almost deleted the draft for this after I had just gotten done fixing all the spacing, and I legit almost developed pyrokinetic capabilities to melt my laptop into a marble-sized ball of metal. I swear, there is a new type of rage that A03 creates in people that can't be reproduced in any way.
> 
> By the way, did you know that the term 'pyrokinesis' was coined by Stephen King in his 1980 novel _Firestarter_? I'm not fucking with you. Look that shit up. Now you know, and you can impress all your friends after you set a bunch of napkins on fire in a drinking fountain with a lighter.
> 
> Btw we get some fee-fees in this chapter. I love writing an Anakin in pain, I really do. And yes, Bane had a slight crush on Jango Fett. Who wouldn't, honestly?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THANKS FOR GETTING ME TO 8000 HITS, YOLKS! That makes me all sorts of happy. I'm 1000 away from being able to use that Vegeta meme as much as I want. Whoop!
> 
> Thanks for reading and reviewing, and, pretty please with a cherry on top, enjoy.
> 
> -Miss Pop
> 
> PS: All mistakes are the fault of three people -- me, myself, and I. Those fucks are terrible editors.

Serenus leaves behind whatever ship he came in on, and follows them straight to theirs.

Anakin remains broodingly quiet until they get onto their ship. Ahsoka can sense without asking that he’s blocking off most of his emotions from their bond. She decides she'll get him to talk about it as soon as they have the chance.

As soon as _he_ isn’t near them.

Serenus looks around the small cockpit of the ship, running his hand over the dashboard and controls. He’s tall enough that he has to stoop through the doorway, and now he takes up enough space, both physically and through the Force, to raise goosebumps on Ahsoka’s lekku.

“So, where is he going?” Anakin asks without looking directly at Serenus as he seats himself in the pilot’s seat. Ahsoka remains standing, staring Serenus down. She doesn’t like the idea of having her back to him.

Serenus gives her a look that’s faintly reminiscent of crèchemaster, and steps up to rest his hands on the back of Anakin’s seat.

“He’s heading to Orondia. The Bith shipmaster has a brother there that runs a fueling station. They would only fill up the ships they sold here enough to reach that station, and that way the brother would receive payment as well,” Serenus smirks. “Rather clever, isn’t it?”

Anakin doesn’t say a word, and brings the ship online.

“Ahsoka, you should sit down,” Anakin says.

“I’m okay right where I am,” Ahsoka responds, eyeing the Sith Lord warily. Before they'd broken atmosphere, Serenus had moved away from Anakin and now stands beside the dashboard directly across from her. He's watching her like a jungle cat hunting its prey.

“You should listen to your master,” says Serenus.

Ahsoka sucks her bottom lip between her teeth and gives the Sith Lord an unimpressed look.

“You better not try anything,” she warns, letting her hands rest suggestively on her lightsaber hilts, “or I’ll cut you down.”

A bright light of amusement shines in the tall Sith’s eyes (eyes that Ahsoka can’t look at for too long without feeling like they’re burning right through her) and he lays his palm over the ‘saber hanging from his waist as well.

“Are you really old enough to be making such threats, little one?”

“Old enough.” Ahsoka responds, lifting her chin in challenge.

The tension in the small cabin seems to reach a peak, and Serenus closes his eyes as it fades away. He lifts his hand from his belt and palms open the door to the rear section of the ship.

“We can spar some other time.” he says, dismissively.

Ahsoka is half-tempted to stomp after him, but Anakin’s hand on her arm keeps her in place. It still isn’t enough to keep her from growling after Serenus’ back.

“It’ll be a real fight.” she says.

Serenus pauses and turns halfway around, raising both eyebrows in soft surprise. “If you are really that eager for death, Ahsoka, there are better places to seek it out than with me.”

 

***

 

Ahsoka sits down in the copilot’s seat, but it’s a good long while before she’s relaxed enough to speak.

“Master, I don’t like him being here.”

Anakin tilts his head in her direction, looking at her with one bright blue eye. “Don’t worry, Snips. I’ve got this. You trust me, right?”

Ahsoka doesn’t hesitate in answering. “Of course!”

A smile stretches across Anakin’s tired face, and he turns back towards the forward viewport. His look quickly sobers as he watches the stars speed past.

“I don’t like it either, but I know he can help us.”

“But he’s Sith! Our enemy,” Ahsoka responds, shaking her head so hard her Padawan beads swing. “We shouldn’t count on him not to stab us in the back.”

“...Yeah,” Anakin weighs his next words carefully, searching for a way to properly explain Qui-Gon Jinn to someone who had only ever known Serenus, “but he did care for Obi-Wan once, and he’s just as angry as you or I that he was killed. I can sense that, and I know you can, too.”

Anakin’s mouth thins with grief, and Ahsoka worries he’s going to go quiet again and she’ll have no one else left to talk to except that kriffing Sith in the rear compartment of the shuttle.

She slumps back in her seat and yawns. “Just because he cared about Master Kenobi once doesn’t mean he does _now._ He tried to kill him on Toydaria. He tried to lead him to the Dark Side,” she says. “The Council even told us he was dangerous. You should listen to them for once.”

Anakin shrugs, and Ahsoka is happy that he answers her (even if he does sound a little annoyed). “If he can help us catch Hardeen, then I’m willing to work with him. That doesn’t mean I’ll allow anything to happen to you, okay?”

“Watch out for yourself too, Skyguy.” Ahsoka murmurs, shifting onto her side. The last few days are finally beginning to take their toll, and she feels too tired to attempt to meditate the exhaustion away this time.

Anakin gives her a fond glance as he continues to pilot the ship. “That’s what I have you here for, Snips.”  


* * *

 

Eval is snoring, loudly. Obi-Wan doesn’t think he’d be able to get any sleep even if he wanted to.

Meanwhile, Bane has taken his turn at the helm without so much as a word, his red eyes glued to the spacescape outside. So it surprises Obi-Wan when, after a few hours of silence, Bane breaks it with a question.

“You really killed Kenobi, huh?”

Obi-Wan blinks his eyes a few times and sits up, elbows resting on his knees. “Yeah,” he says.

“How?”

“With a long-range rifle.”

Bane snorts, a sharp exhale that can almost, _almost_ be called a laugh. “Figures.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Obi-Wan says defensively. He doesn’t actually care, but he knows a real bounty hunter capable of killing a Jedi wouldn’t care for people mocking it.

Bane flicks his hat up, and pulls a toothpick out from beneath the brim. He sticks it between his lips and sucks. “I don’t mean nothin’ bad by it. I just assumed you being Mandalorian and all meant you’d kill Jedi hand-to-hand.”

It’s Obi-Wan’s turn to snort. “What would make you think something so stupid?”

“I had a friend once.” Bane kissed his lips. “Mandalorian bounty hunter, from Concord Dawn, just like you. He liked to get free drinks by saying he killed a bunch of Jedi with just his bare hands.”

 _Jango Fett._ Every Jedi knew about the Battle of Galidraan. Knew about how Jango Fett had killed six Jedi, four Knights, a Master, and a Padawan, with his bare hands, feet, and armored body. It isn’t something Obi-Wan has ever heard spoken of with fondness, but that’s exactly how Bane sounds.

“And you actually believed him?” Obi-Wan chuckles. “Sounds like a load of bantha fodder to me.”

“You obviously didn’t know Fett.” Bane takes the toothpick out, gazes at it, and then flings it away. It bounces off Eval’s shoulder, and the Phindian wakes with a loud snort.

“Huh-what?” Eval looks at them both, wide-eyed.

“It’s your turn. Wake up.” With a pull on his hat, Bane gets up and lets Eval take the pilot’s seat from him. He gives Obi-Wan a squinty-eyed look as he passes him. Obi-Wan stares right back.

Bane pulls a small box from beneath his hat and tilts out a toothpick. He holds it out to Obi-Wan.  

“Want one?”

Obi-Wan takes it.

* * *

 

Once Ahsoka has completely fallen asleep, Anakin drapes a blanket over her, sets the shuttle to autopilot, and heads to the back of the ship.

He doesn’t see where Serenus is at first, and doesn’t particularly care (or so he tries to convince himself). Anakin just doesn’t want to do this in front of Ahsoka. It takes some for him to reach a passable level of calm, and it is soon broken by...

“Meditating?”

Anakin is sitting cross-legged on the floor in the back of the shuttle, and a visible twitch travels down his body at Serenus’ voice. The hands resting on his knees tighten, and cracking concentration mixed with contempt mixed with confusion twists the features of his face.

Anakin has always been too expressive. Too emotional. Too easy to read.

Serenus loops his thumbs beneath his belt band and waits for Anakin to answer him.

“Trying to.” Anakin spits the words out like they were burning his tongue. “What do you want?”

Serenus leans away from the bulkhead wall and moves closer, “I thought you didn’t like to meditate,” he says.

“I’m not a youngling anymore.”

Serenus raises an eyebrow. “So, you like it now?”

Anakin shifts one hand from his knee to his lightsaber hilt, eyes still closed.

“I don’t,” he says, “but I can learn to.”

Serenus can’t help but smile at that, and he only waits a moment longer before positioning himself on the plated floor across from Anakin.

“You look like you could use some help,” he says.

Another twitch shakes through the younger man.

“Not from you.”

Serenus feels a shove in the Force, remarkably strong, urging him out, out, _out,_ but he easily ignores it. The corners of Anakin’s lips curl down, “Go away. You aren’t helping.”

“Neither is attempting to meditate when you’re angry. You must relax.”

Anakin barks out a laugh, eyes snapping open for a split second before quickly squeezing them shut again. “I’m not taking meditation advice from a Sith.”

Serenus shifts on his knees, the prostheses on his lower back pinching his skin in protest at the movement, and tilts his head to the side.

“Even Sith must look within themselves once in awhile.”

Anakin’s eyes snap open a second time, and remain that way. “What are you trying to tell me?”

Serenus keeps his voice low and firm. “Don’t suppress your grief, Anakin. Doing that only makes you weaker. Follow it to it’s source, explore and embrace the feelings you find.”

_“Go away.”_

Serenus looks at him thoughtfully. “You have every right to be angry.”

“I’m **_not_ ** angry, I’m not like _you_. I don’t...I--”

Anakin’s words falter, and something seems to crumple just beneath the surface of him. Lines of pain stretch across his face. Guilt and grief flow from him in waves. He quickly stands up, fists clenched at his sides and head bent forward.

His voice cracks, and the words that come out are whisper-soft. _“I couldn’t save him, Qui-Gon.”_

Serenus rises to his feet as well, and closes the distance between. Anakin still won’t look at him.

 _“I wasn’t strong enough,”_ Anakin murmurs, his voice cracking with each word. Droplets of moisture appear on the bulkhead beneath his down-turned head.

Serenus doesn’t say a word. He only presses one hand against Anakin’s shoulder and guides him toward a nearby bench.

Anakin sits down beside Serenus heavily, elbows braced on his knees, and swipes one hand savagely under his wet eyes. He’s glad, so glad, Ahsoka isn’t awake to see him like this. To see how weak her Master is.

“Obi-Wan is _dead_ , and I couldn’t save him. I couldn’t do anything!” Anakin grits his teeth together, and when he feels an arm placed around his shoulders, he doesn’t want to pull away. He leans towards the comforting touch instead as he begins to shake with quiet sobs. “I had to carry his body. Just like…” Anakin squeezes his eyes shut, but there’s no stopping the tears that slip past and slide down his cheeks. “Just like my mom.”

Serenus doesn’t say anything for a long time. He sits there, allowing Anakin to weep quietly for as long as he needs, until finally he asks, “What do you really want, Anakin?”

Anakin shifts his face up to look at him in confusion, and Serenus amends his question.

“If you were not held back by the Council or the Republic, what would be your first course of action against Rako Hardeen? What would Anakin Skywalker do to justify Obi-Wan’s death?”

“Nothing. Nothing can justify it,” Anakin says, another sob already building in his chest. “Nothing can justify losing him. Nothing helps. Nothing can fix it. _Nothing can--”_

 _“Shhhhhhh,_ there now _._ Getting yourself worked up won’t fix anything.”

Out of old habit, or perhaps something more, Anakin snaps his mouth shut. Serenus picks up the silence.

“You’re correct,” he continues, one tattooed hand shifting downwards to wrap around the clenched fist at Anakin’s side. Anakin hadn’t realized it had been shaking. “Nothing can justify his death. It’s alright to feel pain over that fact, and anger. You already know I do.”

Anakin swallows and nods.

“If we cannot justify it, the least we can do is help ourselves to overcome our grief.” Serenus leans back against the bulkhead. “It is only by embracing it that we can control it. And by controlling it, overcome it.”

Anakin’s words taste like sand in his mouth, gritty and painful. “But Obi-Wan wouldn’t want us to…”

“Obi-Wan is dead, Anakin.” Serenus’ words are sharp, laced with pain and barely controlled. The fingers around Anakin’s mechanical hand and the ones around his shoulder tighten. “Do you think he wanted that?”

“No.”

“Do you think he would want you to be in pain?”

There it is, that constriction in his chest again. A sob climbing its way up his throat, burning his eyes. _“No,”_ Anakin says, softly, and presses his face against Serenus’ shoulder. “I miss him, Qui-Gon. I miss him so much.”

“I know, Ani, I know. I do, too.”

A loud, snuffling sob finally manages to escape past his lips. Anakin attempts to suck it back in only for another to bounce up after it, then another, and another, until he’s shaking with them. _“I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.”_

“Yes, you do. Calm yourself. Don’t overthink. Feel,” says Serenus. “What do you really want, Anakin?”

“I want to kill him.”

Anakin is surprised at the malice in his cry-wrung voice, the dark fire that sparks in his chest and spreads tingling numbness down his arms and legs and over his lips. “I _want to kill Rako Hardeen_ ,” he snarls, louder, leather creaking as his mechanical hand jerks up and wraps around a bar set into the wall behind Serenus’ head and squeezes.“I want to make him _suffer_ . Imprisonment is too good for him. I want him to know the mistake he made, taking Obi-Wan... I want him **_dead.”_ **

The bar snaps in his grip. Serenus doesn’t so much as twitch. He simply sits, watches, as Anakin’s breath slows back down to halting shudders and he curls in on himself once more, fitting his long, lean body against Serenus’ like a child against a parent, and allowing the last of his tears to rattle themselves out his chest.

The anger, however, stays.

As Anakin starts to calm down, shame at what just occurred -- in front of a _Sith Lord,_ of all people -- begins to take root. Part of him is disgusted by what he’s done, by what he can already feel himself preparing to do. What pathetic excuse of Jedi is he, that he can’t even keep himself in control in the middle of a kriffing mission?

But another part of him, that poignant, _erratic_ bit of him buried beneath all the good, is glad he’s done it. Glad that he has decided. Glad that he has Serenus...or Qui-Gon, or whoever the _kark_ he is to Anakin now, here with him. Even with the darkness swarming around the fallen Jedi like thousands of flies,  Anakin hasn’t felt safer in decades. He wants to stay, and allow Serenus to fix all of this.

But he has a duty. To Obi-Wan. He can’t sit here wallowing, no matter how much he would like to.

He keeps his head ducked down as he starts to pull away, but his face is caught by a strong hand before he’s gotten very far.

“It must have been so difficult for you,” Serenus says, tilting Anakin’s chin up to face him. He wipes a few a few stray tears away with a broad thumb. There is no hidden lesson in his look; only regret. “You had to face it alone, when I should have been there. I’m sorry, Anakin. I will fix that mistake. Rako Hardeen will know our wrath.”

Anakin shakes his head, but not so hard that he pulls away from Serenus’ hand. And not to argue against the promised vengeance towards Hardeen. He wants it. He knows he does, and it both excites and terrifies him.

“I wasn’t… I’m _not_ alone,” Anakin says. “ Even if the Council won’t do a kriffing thing about this, I know now that I can. I have Padmé, the Chancellor, Ahsoka…” he hesitates, eyes darting up at Serenus before dipping away.

Serenus smiles a small smile, voice a throaty purr, as he answers the unspoken question. “Yes, Ani, you’ll always have me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Jango Fett totally did that. He _did_. Makes you think he probably went a bit easy on Obi-Wan. I'm guess because he thought he was cute... and, well, yeah. Kid Boba was there. But Boba would have just been like "Fuck yeah, Dad!" Who knows, right?
> 
> *This fic is almost to 500 kudos. Man, I've only had one other fic get that high. I think I'mma faint.


	10. Friends and Enemies, Part 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Do you realize how many fucking times people get knocked out in this episode? We have Obi-Wan, we have Ahsoka, we have Anakin (and this isn't even getting into what happens on Naboo). I'm shocked people don't have drain bamage. No fucking wonder Palpatine was able to sway Anakin so easily. After the 90th electrocution and the 25th concussion, Palps could have pointed at a coconut, said, "That's blue" and Anakin would have nodded and replied, "Killing those children will totally keep my wife from dying, you're right."
> 
> They don't need balance in the Force. They need proper fucking medical care.
> 
> And speaking of concussions, this is an action-heavy chapter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for getting me to 500, folks! Here's a surprise chapter, in honor of that.
> 
> Thanks for reading, reviewing, and enjoying!
> 
> -Pop
> 
> PS: Mistakes, mine. All miiiiiiine.

Ahsoka blinks awake to find Anakin gone, and their bond filled with pain.

She’s on her feet before she’s even checked that her lightsabers are at her side, and races down the main corridor to the back of the ship.

“Master!” She bursts in to find…

To find…

Anakin, perfectly fine, standing beside Serenus, and smiling. They look like they could almost be  _ friends. _

Ahsoka immediately assumes the worst. Anakin has been infected by brain worms and is now being controlled by Serenus. She stoops down and pulls out her lightsabers.

“What the kark did you do to him?”

Serenus shares a look with Anakin, and Anakin turns to Ahsoka. He looks normal, but looks can be deceiving. He gets closer, and presses his hands over Ahsoka’s until she relaxes her grip on her lighsabers.

“Snips, it’s okay. There’s been a change of plans,” says Anakin, carefully. “We’re not going to bring Hardeen back alive.”

“But, our bond. It’s --” Ahsoka stops and squints at him. “Wait. What? Why?”

Serenus comes closer and leans against the compartment door jamb, looking far more comfortable than he should. He answers her. “If Rako Hardeen can escape from prison once, he may do so again.”

Ahsoka looks from one man to the other in shock as Anakin nods in agreement.

“You can’t be serious!” she snaps, gesturing at Serenus like he isn’t there. “You can’t listen to him!”

Ahsoka senses an entertained mirth emanating from the Sith Lord, but she ignores it to stare up at Anakin pleadingly.

_ “Master.” _

“Ahsoka,” Anakin wraps his nonsynthetic hand over her hand, the warmth bleeding through the material of his glove and onto her skin. She’s given a reassuring look. “He’s right.”

Ahsoka hates to hear those words. Hates hearing how  _ confident  _ Anakin sounds when he says them, but she swallows down her worry and listens to what he has to say. He’s her Master, after all, and she will always trust him first.

“This is the only way to make sure Hardeen can never hurt anyone else,” Anakin continues. “What if he escaped again, and killed more innocent people? Killed  _ more  _ Jedi? It’s our duty as the peacekeepers of the galaxy to stop him, by any means necessary. For the good of the Republic… For Obi-Wan.”

Ahsoka’s blue eyes widen, and then narrow in resolve. She ducks her chin in agreement, even as apprehension swirls in her mind. 

“For Master Obi-Wan.” she agrees, softly.

* * *

 

Orondia is a vast, barren dwarf planet filled with abandoned mining sites and massive pipelines. At the center of that sits a lonely, twelve-pointed fueling station with blinking white lights. Anakin lands them on one of the landing points, and leans back in his seat with his arms crossed. Serenus is in the back of the shuttle doing Force knows what, and Ahsoka has tried and failed multiple times to convince her Master that killing Hardeen is  _ wrong _ . Anakin refuses to listen.

So Ahsoka gazes out at the other points jutting out from the fueling station. Something catches her eye in the ship right across from them. “Look, its Cad Bane.”

Anakin looks over her shoulder. “Are you sure?” he asks.

“Ugh, who else where a hat like that?” responds Ahsoka.

Anakin purses his lips and nods. “Good point.” he says, and pilots the ship after Hardeen's as it departs. “Go get Serenus.”

“Why do I need to get him? He should stay in the back of the ship.”

Anakin accelerates, and doesn’t look at her. “Snips.”

Ahsoka tightens her lips and gets up from her seat. She finds Serenus in the rear compartment of the ship, sitting on the floor with eyes closed. He’s meditating, of all things. Ahsoka calls out from the doorway.

“Hey. Get in the cockpit.”

Serenus’ eyes open slowly, gleaming golden in the low light. He pushes up to his feet after a short struggle that leaves Ahsoka wondering why anyone is scared of this strange Sith in the first place.

“Thank you,” Serenus says.

Ahsoka just turns sharply on her heel and stalks back toward the front. The shuttle rattles as Anakin makes a sharp turn.

“I brought him,” she says to the back of Anakin’s head before getting into the co-pilot’s seat. “How are we doing?”

“He knows we’re here. I’m gonna say hello.” As he says that, Anakin grins and slams the hull of the Jedi shuttle into the top of Hardeen’s ship.

Ahsoka catches the co-pilot’s yoke to keep herself steady, and behind her she hears a soft thump as Serenus hits one of the dashboards. “Nice way to say hello!” she says.

Hardeen’s ship twists hard to starboard, dipping into a row of pipelines. Anakin presses their ship after them as they clear a hill and come to a plain of pipelines crisscrossing across the planet’s rocky surface.

“You know me. Always polite.”

Anakin stays on their tail, skidding their ship along Hardeen’s a second time. The shuttle shudders, and fingers brush Ahsoka’s back lekku as Serenus grips the back of her chair to keep steady.

Hardeen’s ship turns beneath a pipeline, their Jedi shuttle clears it overhead, and Anakin twists the steering yoke hard once before hopping out of his seat.

“Take over!” He says to Ahsoka, and he stops in front of Serenus to grab the lightsaber from his belt. “I need this. I’ll bring ‘em down.”

He’s gone before either Ahsoka or Serenus can say anything, and Ahsoka catches the co-pilot’s yoke and straightens the ship out. Serenus grips the back of her seat with both hands now.

“He must be an exciting Master to have,” Serenus notes pleasantly.

“Sit down already!” Ahsoka yells back.

A moment later, Ahsoka spots Anakin hopping from their ship onto the upper hull of Hardeen’s, his lightsaber and Serenus’ twin bright lines of blue and red in the dusk. She keeps the shuttle leaning in close as Anakin buries his ‘sabers into one of Hardeen’s fuel pods. Black smoke billows out around him, and he drags his lightsabers out for a second strike.

Suddenly, another form comes shooting out from the side of Hardeen’s craft: Bane, held aloft by his rocket boots. Red blaster bolts scream towards Anakin, but he manages to ricochet one back, and it hits one Bane’s boots in a shower of sparks. Ahsoka pumps one fist in the air as he goes down and her Master leaps across the ship after him.

“He should restrain himself,” Ahsoka hears Serenus say, but there’s a smile in his words.

Hardeen’s ship speeds up, and Ahsoka pushes the yoke towards her, slamming the belly of the shuttle against the ship again.

She stays atop them as Hardeen’s ship turns and twists. She spots Anakin and Bane moving down to the nose of the ship, sliding as it flounders.

Serenus’ voice is right beside Ahsoka’s head. “What are they doing?”

Ahsoka brings on hand away from the yoke and pushes his face away. “Who cares? Sit  _ down. _ ”

The nose turrets on Hardeen’s ship fire a barrage into a hill up ahead, creating a hole. The ship flies through it, coming back up before Ahsoka can compensate for the sudden change.

Hardeen’s ship rams into the underbelly of the shuttle and sends both ships spinning out of control.

The shuttle hits the ground, throwing both Ahsoka and Serenus forward. Strong hands catch her before she can fly into the viewport glass, but Ahsoka’s head cracks against the steering yoke as the ship slams into a cliff face. Her world fills with red, and then twisting forms of black. Sound becomes mute. The world filters away.

Large, unusually warm hands pull her gently back into her seat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Some lines taken from the Clone Wars episode "Friends and Enemies" (Season 4 Episode 16)  
> *Next chapter will *finally* reach the conclusion of the "Friends and Enemies" episode line. Rejoice! WE ARE FINALLY GONNA GET TO DOOKU.


	11. Friends and Enemies, Part 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I can't think of anything interesting or worthwhile to put on here. I honestly can't. I'm thinking and I'm thinking and it's just a blank! A big boring blank. Uhhhh. Hm. _*picks at lip*_ Urrrr.
> 
> Obi-Wan, Serenus, Anakin, and Ahsoka all end up in one place for the first time. It goes about as well as you'd expect it to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was actually almost able to wait a week! But alas, this fic is simply too fun to leave sitting. We've finally, _finally_ reached the end of the 'Friends  & Enemies' episode! Next up comes the Borg ripoff. That's right, 'The Box'.
> 
> I love that episode.
> 
> Thanks for reading and reviewing and, most of all, always, enjoying!
> 
> Love, Pop
> 
> PS: I have two lovely people to thank for being betas this chapter. **[Zheawesomest](http://zheawesomest.tumblr.com/)** and **[dendral](http://dendral.tumblr.com/)**. You have these two to thank for the chapter looking so damn nice, but for any lingering mistakes, das all _me._

The ship groans to a stop about a rocky shelf. Sparks and smoke curl around them from the dashboard. Obi-Wan raises himself up from where he had smacked into the bulkhead and shakes his head clear. His mind is in shambles from the crash, as clogged with debris as the air outside the viewport. Obi-Wan looks to his left, waiting for his vision to stop bouncing in doubles. Eval is pulling at wires, muttering incoherently to himself, attempting to make the ship airborne again. Bane is out of sight, and…

“Anakin!”

Obi-Wan pushes himself up and rushes outside before he can think better of it.

The air around him is silent, muffled by the detritus still floating in the air. Obi-Wan can sense Anakin nearby, but even that connection is muddled. He doesn’t dare press it further.

From out of the clouds of dust, Anakin comes flying, grasping Obi-Wan around the middle and sending them both hurtling down to a lower shelf. Dust and dirt covers them both as they roll once, twice, before both men push away from one another.

Obi-Wan hops back onto his feet as Anakin does the same, his face obscured by the dirty mist but the pure fury of his look clear enough. Anakin’s gaze settles on him, wild and warlike, and his voice is hoarse -- almost unnaturally so -- as he says:

_“You are going to pay for what you did.”_

He lunges and Obi-Wan catches him by the shoulders, holding him back.

“You shouldn’t have got involved,” he growls.

That was definitely the wrong thing to say.

Anakin bares his teeth in a snarl, eyes flashing in the dim light. He grasps Obi-Wan’s shoulders tighter before putting his superior size to use and forcing him back. Obi-Wan’s back slams into a cliff face and before he has a chance to catch his breath, Anakin brings his knee into Obi-Wan's crotch.

The air leaves Obi-Wan’s lungs completely, pain pooling in his lower stomach and bringing him down to his knees. That single moment is all Anakin needs. When Obi-Wan looks up, Anakin is igniting a lightsaber. One with a crimson blade and an all too familiar hilt.

 _Serenus?_   Obi-Wan suddenly feels as though the air he's desperately gasping in is toxic. A million questions flash through his mind, all fading into nothing the moment Anakin opens his mouth to speak.

“This is for Obi-Wan,” he says in a fierce murmur.

Anakin raises the red lightsaber above his head, and in the split second before cleaving it downwards, his eyes seem to glow gold in the haze…

...and the blade never comes down.

Above them both, Bane appears. A length of cord snakes out of his gauntlet, winding around Anakin. Anakin struggles in the bindings, eyes fading back to blue so quickly that Obi-Wan wonders whether he had even seen them change at all.

His eyes remained focused on Obi-Wan as Bane hops from the top of the small cliff, igniting his boot rocket thruster to hover himself in the air.

“You can thank me later, Hardeen,” he says, grasping the rope with his other hand and flying backwards. Anakin is yanked off his feet and dragged after Bane like a youngling’s toy. “You had your chance to kill him.” Bane lands several meters away, hauling Anakin back with a particularly vicious pull. _“Now it’s my turn.”_

Anakin lands on his back and throws his feet above him, slamming them into Bane and freeing himself from the cords.

He calls Serenus’ lightsaber back into his hands, spinning around and blocking Bane’s blaster bolts, one after another. They hurtle back in Bane’s direction, but none of them manage to hit him. He dodges them easily, and with each missed hit Anakin’s movements turn more erratic and wild. As untrained as a Padawan. Obi-Wan has never seen such a sloppy display from Anakin in the middle of a fight.

Anakin gets closer to Bane. He thrusts, ripostes, waves the ‘saber like it has an actual weight. The movements have an immense strength to them, but they leave Anakin open. Even as he slices Bane’s blaster in two, Obi-Wan can see immediately the area left open for Bane. It would be easy to kill Anakin.

Obi-Wan moves on instinct, pressing the Force into his steps to bring himself hurling into Anakin and pushing him out of Bane’s window of opportunity.

Anakin becomes focused on Obi-Wan once more, and he propels himself to his feet and rushes him. Obi-Wan catches his arm easily, throwing Anakin over his shoulder and onto the ground. Serenus’ lightsaber goes flying.

Obi-Wan feels rather bad about this next part.

He straddles Anakin’s waist and brings his fist smashing down into Anakin’s face. Once, then twice, then a third time. By the sixth punch, Anakin’s lip splits, erupting into a small current of blood. That causes Obi-Wan to hesitate just long enough for Anakin to catch his wrist, twisting it with an audible crack of bones before throwing him off.

He rushes at Obi-Wan once more, aiming sloppily with his robotic arm. Obi-Wan catches him by the shoulder, turns him onto his stomach, twists his arm around Anakin’s neck in a sleeper hold, and squeezes.

Anakin struggles, letting out a frustrated whine when none of his blows manage to land. He flails harder, but to no avail. A trail of blood is dripping down his chin.

Obi-Wan grips his elbow tightens his arm, and Anakin begins to lose consciousness, moving his hands against Obi-Wan’s forearm and tugging uselessly. Obi-Wan leans in close and allows his voice to fall back into its usual, formal undertone and whispers, “Anakin, don’t follow me.”

Obi-Wan cannot tell if Anakin understands. Part of Obi-Wan doesn’t want him to. He’s alive, and that’s all that matters. Obi-Wan releases him and pushes him onto his back, before rolling onto his own feet.

Bane is standing only a few meters away, a blaster in his hand and aimed at Anakin, but before Obi-Wan can tell him to stop, twin beams of light flash in the air behind him.

Ahsoka comes hurtling out of the mist with a roar, swinging her lightsabers at Bane before somersaulting over to Anakin. She crouches over his body, blocking each and every one of Bane’s blasts with precise spins of her lightsabers. Despite the poise, Obi-Wan can see the heavy breaths she keeps taking.

“Wai-” Obi-Wan holds up his hands, but his words are cut short by Eval clambering onto the top of their ship above and behind them, and shouting.

“The ship is still operational,” Eval calls down. “Moralo Eval got it working. Now let's get out of here!”

Eval scuffles back towards the open hatch and both Obi-Wan and Bane focus back on Ahsoka. Bane flips his blaster carbine onto his back, sounding almost disappointed.

“You’re lucky we’re in a hurry, little lady,” he says, tipping his hat. “We’ll have to dance another time.”

Ahsoka only bears her sharp teeth, and Obi-Wan gives her one final look as Bane turns to leave. He knows Ahsoka won’t be stupid enough to chase after them, but to leave her and Anakin like this, with Serenus no doubt close by…

“Hardeen, hurry it up, will ya?”

Bane’s drawl cracks through his mind, and with one last glance at Ahsoka and Anakin, Obi-Wan forces his feet to turn him towards the ship.

Ahsoka’s voice drifts after him, heavy with fear. “Master! Master, are you alright?”

Obi-Wan steels himself.

They will be fine. They will have to be.

* * *

Anakin snaps awake with Ahsoka over him and everything in his body aching.

He wraps an arm around her shoulders, but as she begins to pull him back to his feet he lets go with a groan, holding his hand close to his head and squeezing his eyes shut.

“What is it? What’s wrong?” Ahsoka asks.   

Anakin presses tender mental fingers around his bond with Obi-Wan. The link aches like an open wound, but it’s still there. He’d been too terrified to press it before, to know for certain that Obi-Wan was gone for good, but he does so now. Something strong blocks him immediately, something obviously constructed, forcing him back each time he pushes against it. Anakin cannot get past the construct, but he doesn’t need to to know exactly what it means.

“So that’s why I felt a connection,” he whispers, opening his eyes and tugging his hand away from his face, and his mind away from the link. The space behind his eyes is pulsating, and it takes a moment for him to meet Ahsoka’s wide, worried gaze.

“Obi-Wan is--” Anakin goes silent when the tall form of Serenus coalesces in the dusty air a meter away from them, and Ahsoka helps him to stand.

Ahsoka presses in close to Anakin as Serenus comes to a stop before them. The sudden realization that she’s holding him back hits Anakin hard, harder than any of Hardeen’s blows. She expects him to go running to Serenus.

She has good reason to. Hadn’t that been exactly what he’d done? Anakin curses himself.

“Come on, Ahsoka, we’re going home.” Anakin hobbles along with one arm slung across his Padawan’s shoulders. He gently squeezes her shoulder as they pass Serenus, signaling for her to wait. She does so stiffly.

“I know what you tried to make me do,” Anakin says.

“Make you?” Serenus continues to stare thoughtfully at the area in space where the junker carrying the outlaws had disappeared into. “They were your own decisions. I didn’t make you do anything you didn’t already wish to do.” A pause, and a smile. “You would make a remarkable Sith, Anakin.”

Anakin’s lips tighten, and he dashes his tongue across the bloodied edges. “Obi-Wan was right not to trust you. Find your own way off this dustball, and your lightsaber,” he says and urges Ahsoka forward.

* * *

Bane has his thin legs up on the unused seat while Eval seems intent on gutting the navicomputer when Obi-Wan finally comes back into the cockpit.

He pushes Bane’s feet off of the seat and falls heavily into it, only half over-exaggerating his exhaustion.

Bane gives him a sour look before putting his boots back up on Obi-Wan’s lap. The disguised Jedi Master is far too distracted to care.

 _Why had Ahsoka and Anakin been with Serenus?_ His thoughts kept swirling back to the tall man making his way toward them both as the junker had taken off. _What if he hurt them?_

Obi-Wan rubs his eyes. No, he simply cannot worry about that right now. Both Anakin and Ahsoka can take care of themselves. Neither of them would allow a danger like that near the other by anything less than happenstance, and Obi-Wan hadn’t sensed any ill intent towards them from the Sith Lord.

_They are fine. It’s far too late to go back anyway._

“Don’t you look preoccupied? Careful, Hardeen, or that’ll get you killed.”

Obi-Wan scowls and glares over at the bounty hunter.

“You mean like how that Jedi almost killed you back on the surface?”

The Duros glares right back, but he’s just as worn out as Obi-Wan feels. His look quickly fades into a noncommittal one as he starts to fish around in his pockets.

“First Jedi, now Sith,” Bane notes, as he finds a toothpick and sticks it between his sharp teeth. “You’re the luckiest outlaw in the galaxy to have both out for your blood, ain’t ya?”

“How do you know about the Sith?” Obi-Wan can’t keep himself from being curious. Few non-Jedi bothered to know the difference the Sith and the Separatists. To most, they were simply one in the same.

Bane settles back in his seat, pulling his wide-brimmed hat over his eyes and crossing his arms.

“Did a job for one of ‘em once.”

“Huh,” Obi-Wan relaxes back as well. “Anything interesting?”

Bane snorts. “Kidnappin’ brats.”

In front of them, Eval cackles. “Sounds like fun,” the Phindian says gleefully over his shoulder, hands still wrist deep in the console’s innards.

Obi-Wan ignores him. “We gonna get any specifics?” he asks Bane.

“Yes,” Eval adds in. “Moralo Eval wishes to know if you killed the children.” He titters.

Bane raises a brow at Obi-Wan. “Bet ya wish you were, Hardeen,” he says and then adjusts himself once more before closing his eyes. “Not many specifics. Job was a bust. Didn’t get paid, and the brats were rescued by the Jedi.”

Eval frowns, disappointed, as he inputs commands into the navicomputer. “Boring.”

 

***

 

They’re still on Orondia when Eval takes the helm, swallows, and turns them down for a sudden landing.

Obi-Wan jerks Bane awake. “What the Hells is he doing?”

Bane shakes the light sleep from his eyes. “How should I know? Eval, what's going on!”

Eval’s knuckles are pale around the steering yoke, his eyes wide. “We’re picking up someone. Very important. Dooku’s direct orders.”

_Dooku’s direct…_

Oh no.

The ship heaves down for a landing, flopping onto the ground like a well-fed cat and Eval all but sprints to the loading hatch.

Obi-Wan sits back down slowly, willing himself into some semblance of calm. Bane remains standing, one eye behind them and the other on his blaster.

Obi-Wan’s breath begins to regulate, but his mind races. Where  _had_ Serenus been during his battle with Anakin? The answer is simple.

Eval’s forced, cheery voice comes up to them from the back. “Welcome, Lord Serenus, welcome! Moralo Eval apologizes for the wait...”

Serenus had been with Eval.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Dun-dun-dun  
> *Bane is referencing the first arc he ever appeared in. Well, one of the first at least: [Children of the Force](http://starwars.wikia.com/wiki/Children_of_the_Force).  
> *Some lines taken from the Clone Wars episode "Friends & Enemies" (Season 4 Episode 16)  
> *Now you know how long Chapter Two would have been if I hadn't broken it up! Fun!


	12. The Box, Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I accidentally poured Coca Cola down my nose just now. There's no real reason for you to know that. Just, as you're reading this (and hopefully liking it _*fingers crossed*_ ), know that your beloved author person almost destroyed their ability to smell with Mexican Coca Cola. _It has real sugar._
> 
> Right! As for the chapter! Hm. Well, stuff happens. The plot moves forward. Bane and Obi-Wan furiously make out in the back of the junker and while Obi-Wan is sucking Bane's tongue he thinks "My ex is right up front. I hope my shields don't go down."
> 
> ...that doesn't actually happen, but fucking _imagine_? I might need to write a comedic version of this fic just to include that one scene.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IT'S OVER 9000!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
> 
> The hits, that is! That's right folks, Pulsion now has over 9000 fucking hits. (I bet you about 3000 of those are me, but, still.) It's a cause for celebration! So, in honor of that, here's a chapter early. 
> 
> Thanks for reading, reviewing, and enjoying!
> 
> Love, Miss Pop
> 
> PS: You have **[sanerontheinside](http://sanerontheinside.tumblr.com/)** and **[zheawesomest](http://zheawesomest.tumblr.com/)** to thank for making this chapter legible! Any lingering mistakes are mine and mine alone.
> 
> PSS: There is some _awesome_ fanart at the end that you have got to see. You don't even need to read the chapter. Just look at that glorious art!

Obi-Wan pulls his helmet on his head and locks it into place so quickly that it makes Bane raise a brow, but the Duros doesn’t say anything to him. He’s too busy looking Serenus up and down, and not liking what he sees.

“Where’d he come from?” Bane asks, utterly nonplussed.

Eval’s answering smile is more of a grimace than a grin as he ushers Serenus to the nearest chair. “That’s trifling information. What matters is that we’re taking Lord Serenus with us to Serenno. Be polite.”

Bane bares his teeth at that, and starts to head toward the back of the ship. Obi-Wan, meanwhile, finds himself rooted to his seat. He triple-checks his shields, reinforcing them with his own mental power, and keeps himself calm.

That serenity snaps when he hears Serenus’ voice.

“Politeness is hardly necessary,” Serenus says in Qui-Gon’s voice, with Qui-Gon’s inflections. “You did well against those Jedi, Bounty Hunter, but you must be exhausted.”

Bane tips his hat. “How _kind_ of ya,” he says, sarcastically, before looking over his shoulder. “You comin’, Hardeen?”

Obi-Wan’s heart skips a beat. “Yeah, sure,” he says calmly. It’s agony to make himself rise out of his seat, stretching his arms above his head as he does. It’s almost impossible to act relaxed with Serenus right behind him.

Obi-Wan doesn’t meet Serenus’ gaze as he walks past him and Eval, but he swears he can feel that corrupted look on him as the bulkhead door slides shut behind him.

To think that just being in the same room as him could hurt this much… Obi-Wan finds himself checking his shields once more. If Serenus knew it was him -- no. He would have killed both Eval and Bane by now if that were the case.

 _No, he doesn’t know it’s me_ , Obi-Wan thinks.

Yet Obi-Wan can sense something from him. A bitterness. _Could that have to do with my death?_ He wonders, but quickly pushes that thought aside.

On Toydaria, Serenus had said the next time they met, he would kill him. Obi-Wan doesn’t doubt his word on that.

Once safely in what serves as the rear of the junker (really, with the way the ship is set up, it’s more the bottom than the back), Bane pulls out a different box from beneath his hat. Obi-Wan recognizes it even before Bane taps a deathstick out of it and sticks it in his mouth.

“Nice habit,” Obi-Wan says. “Toothpicks haven’t helped you kick it yet?”

“Nice helmet,” Bane responds, lighting the deathstick by snapping the tip off and blowing a stream of multi-colored smoke from the opposite side of his mouth. “Why you tryin’ to hide from that Serenus guy?”

“I’m not hiding.” The way it comes out, it’s obvious he’s trying to hide.

Bane rolls his eyes and inhales the smoke deeply. “No shame in owing credits.”

_Oh, thank the Force._

Obi-Wan latches onto the idea quickly as the ship rumbles to life and vibrates beneath them. That split second before the ship enters hyperspace makes Obi-Wan feel weightless, but it’s better leaving the atmosphere than falling through it. “It’s a lot of damn credits.”

“He gonna kill you for ‘em?”

“Hopefully not soon. I can pay him back with the reward Eval gives me.” Obi-Wan tilts his head. “I am still getting it, right?”

Bane shrugs. “Just don’t die, or it’s mine.”

“Thanks.”

They stand quietly for a few minutes before Bane straightens up and crushes the end of his deathstick against the bulkhead. It leaves a charred circle on the metal that begins to melt around the edges.

“Where you going?” Obi-Wan asks.

“Back to the cockpit,” says Bane. “If he’s gonna kill ya, he’s gonna kill ya. No use acting like a scared womp rat.”

Before Obi-Wan can argue, the door is opening and Bane is gone down the corridor. Reluctantly, Obi-Wan follows...

...and stops when he sees Serenus coming down the corridor, directly towards him.

A multitude of swear words jumble for attention in Obi-Wan’s mind, but he knocks them all aside for:

“Don’t mind me. Just need to use the ‘fresher.”

Obi-Wan avoids Serenus’ gaze and shuffles into the confined space of the junker’s refresher to his left. The doors locks behind him. He stands with his elbows resting on the sink, and checks his mental shields again.

_He doesn’t know it’s me._

Obi-Wan stares at the unfamiliar face in the cracked mirror, rubs at the faint specks of red hair beginning to peek up on his scalp, takes a deep breath, and goes back out.

Serenus is still standing there, and so is Bane. They’re side-eyeing one another. If there was a way to communicate through glares, they could have been writing an opera with their eyes alone.

“‘bout time,” Bane grumbles, and pushes past Obi-Wan and into the ‘fresher. The door slides shut behind him with a resounding hiss.

Obi-Wan can feel Serenus staring at him once again. He hasn’t said a word. Obi-Wan adjusts his helmet slightly. He’s starting to love this thing about as much as his lightsaber. It keeps him from having to make eye contact with the Sith Lord. It keeps him from completely breaking character.

With a clearing of his throat, Obi-Wan walks past Serenus and into the cockpit. Serenus doesn’t stop him, but after a few seconds back in his seat, Obi-Wan hears Serenus slide in behind him. He keeps quiet for the rest of the trip, but Obi-Wan can feel his eyes. He can always feel his eyes.

 

***

 

When the ship finally leaves hyperspace, Obi-Wan feels he’s stretched as thin as a piece of flimsi. It’s as if he hasn’t breathed for these last few hours. Seeing the grey-green planet of Serenno actually comes as a relief, if only to allow him to forget for a moment that a man that wishes to kill him is sitting directly behind him. Serenus or no, Obi-Wan’s mission is drawing to a close. He will get out of this. He has to keep telling himself that.

Their junker flies through the Separatist blockade protecting the planet, and through the atmosphere (much more forgiving than Nal Hutta’s). It glides across windswept green hills and fair cities. Serenno has always been known for its beauty.

Count Dooku’s castle comes into view a few moments later, the largest, circular green window facing a sheer cliff flashing in the light like an emerald eye as they pass by it.

On the reverse side of the estate, the well-kept grass and tall hedges of the Count’s estate are gilded by the level rays of the nearest setting star. Obi-Wan almost thinks it’s peaceful.

Then he spots Dooku strutting up the main pathway, flanked by two Magna Guards, and he promptly pushes aside any fleeting notions of liking this place.

He hears Serenus shift to standing behind him. Obi-Wan doesn’t move. The real battle for survival has only just begun.

 

[Art by punsbulletsandpointythings](http://punsbulletsandpointythings.tumblr.com/)

[Art by halpdevon](http://halpdevon.tumblr.com/)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Bane seems like the type that would have a bad deathstick habit, don't you think? Toothpicks are his nicotine patches!  
> *I understand how fucked up it is that I have Obi-Wan and Serenus in the same place together not talking at all... you're welcome. _*cackle*_  
>  *Did you see the art? Look up. Gaaaaaze at the glory. I love 'em both to death, but that Serenus and Dooku one? Holy FUCK. Speaking of, we finally get some Dooku speaking next chapter. That'll be a hoot.


	13. The Box, Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here's some interesting factoids to impress your friends with:
> 
> 1\. The normal vaginal pH is 3.8 to 4.5. What does this mean? _Va-jay-jays are literally acidic._ Pat the men, women, and nonbinary folks with these things tucked between their legs on the back and say, "Get a tattoo of a hazard sign on that fucking thing already, shit."
> 
> 2\. Vulcans go crazy when exposed to Trellium-D. 
> 
> 3\. The Aztecs, an ancient Mesoamerican culture dating as far back as the fourteenth century C.E., had no beasts of burden and did not use the wheel as a tool. You want to bitch about your commute, think about the Aztecs first.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I lied.
> 
> And what I mean by that is, Dooku doesn't appear in this chapter. It's the next one. ~Sorry~ Different plot strings to tie together and all that.
> 
> This chapter is coming up early because _*dramatic drumroll*_ this fic reached 600 kudos a few days ago! Wahaaaaaa! That is definitely worth a surprise update.
> 
> Thanks for reading and reviewing and enjoying, folks, and happy... uh... Wednesday! Yes, it's Wednesday. Happy Wednesday.
> 
> -Pop
> 
> PS: All mistakes are mine and mine alone. If I were a dragon, I'd hoard mistakes. (Just kidding. I'd hoard failure)

Returning to Coruscant comes as a bit of a shock.

News of Obi-Wan’s death hit the civilian HoloNet while Anakin and Ahsoka had been away, and the effect is instantaneous. Billboards showing Obi-Wan’s face slowly rotate above the skylanes, rumor boards flourish with thoughts of who had killed him and how he had died (with a few of them almost getting it right), journalists huddle outside the gates of the Jedi Temple, and Anakin even learns that the Chancellor himself had given a moving speech about how much General Kenobi had done for the Republic, and why the war efforts should be doubled, if not tripled, in his memory.

The entire effect is that Coruscant seems consumed with grief over Obi-Wan Kenobi. One can’t turn without seeing his face somewhere, or hearing his name whispered from someone’s lips. The air is heavy with him.

Yet Anakin feels none of it.

Ever since re-opening his bond with Obi-Wan, feeling him, and _knowing_ that he’s still alive, it’s like Anakin is walking through a dream. As Ahsoka lands the shuttle, he hardly notices getting up and going down into the docking bay. He hardly registers Masters Windu and Yoda greeting both him and Ahsoka with hard looks in their eyes. He hardly realizes his wounds are being assessed, including the bond with Obi-Wan, or that he’s being ushered towards Halls of Healing by the Mind Healer, Toba Yon. Ahsoka disappearing from his side offers up a brief spike of anxiety, until Anakin remembers she’d told him she’d be coming right back after briefing the Council on what had happened.

Anakin can’t focus on any of it, because Obi-Wan is alive.

_Obi-Wan is alive._

 

***

 

When Ahsoka enters the Halls of Healing a few hours later, Toba Yon is standing over Anakin, pressing a healing crystal to his forehead. Anakin’s face is twisted in pain, and Ahsoka half wants to tell the Jedi Healer to stop. Instead, she watches Master Yon harness the Force, use it to reset Anakin’s disrupted neural functions, watches the pain on her Master’s face melt.

The elderly Jedi leans back, stowing the crystal on a nearby tray and handing Anakin a bottle of bright blue pills.

“Since you know everything now, I can be frank,” Master Yon says. “Take those twice a day with meals, and it should help the headaches. They do for me. Remember, do _not_ connect to your bond with Master Kenobi, and _try_ to meditate.”

Anakin grimaces and Master Yon shakes his head, muttering something about younglings and the fate of the Jedi Order.

Ahsoka makes her presence known with a soft knock on the open doorway. “Master Yon, may I come in?”

Master Yon rolls his eyes skyward and gestures with one hand. “If you must.” He wanders out as Ahsoka wanders in, and she takes a seat beside Anakin’s bed.

“He seems in a good mood,” Ahsoka begins, and relief floods her when Anakin smiles at her words.

“Apparently, when I opened my bond with Obi-Wan, he felt it, too.” Anakin shrugs. “I think I gave him a headache.”

“What doesn’t give Master Yon a headache?”

Anakin chuckles with his mouth closed, rubbing at his split lip that’s only just begun to mend itself. Ahsoka laughs with him, and stops when he does. She catches one strand of her silka beads and rolls one of the small spheres between her thumb and forefinger.

“So,” she starts.

“So,” Anakin says, and pauses. “You first, Snips.”

“You’re an idiot.”

Anakin sighs and rubs at the back of his neck. “Yeah, and I’m sorry.”

“But the Council is the bigger idiot,” Ahsoka responds, crossing her arms across her chest indignantly. “They’re all idiots, even Master Plo.”

Anakin smirks. “Is there anyone in the Order that isn’t an idiot?”

At Ahsoka’s raised brow and pursed lips, he holds up his hands in submission. “Stupid question.”

“Are you okay?” Ahsoka continues, staring at him unblinking.

“I’m…” Anakin considers his answer. His first reaction is to lie, to say that he’s fine, but Ahsoka deserves better than that. “No.” With that one word, others start to tumble after them. “I wasn’t ready to accept Obi-Wan’s death, and that allowed me to be manipulated. I--” Anakin stops when he sees a couple of Knights pass in the hallway outside, and lowers his voice a fraction. “I almost killed him because I couldn't accept his loss.”

“It’s true, then,” Ahsoka says, her eyes shining. “He’s alive.”

Anakin doesn’t say a thing. He only nods.

 

***

 

Once Master Yon allows him to leave, Anakin is called into the communal meditation room by Master Yoda. What he suspected to be true is completely confirmed. Obi-Wan’s death had been fake all along. He had used that ploy to infiltrate the Separatists disguised as the bounty hunter, Rako Hardeen. With the Council’s blessing, of course.

As of now, he’s currently out of contact range. His last transmission had asked that no more communications be sent out to him.

“Left to the Force and Obi-Wan, it is,” Master Yoda says. “Trust them, we must.”

Anakin doesn’t dwell on the apologetic tone in Yoda’s voice for very long before leaving to find Ahsoka.

 

***

 

Once he’s back in their apartment within the Temple's main building, Anakin explains everything to Ahsoka. He explains where Obi-Wan is, he explains the Yoda's justifications, he explains how the entire murder had been a set-up, and he’s proud of how indignant she is by the time he’s finished.

“They lied to us!” Ahsoka paces around the small living room of their shared quarters a third time, that strange mix of anger and relief flooding the Force in a bittersweet wave. “Why would they do that? How could Master Obi-Wan think that’s the right thing to do?”

From his place on the low couch, Anakin’s nostrils flare. “Believability is what I was told.”

“Believa-- karking poodoo!”

“Language, Padawan.” Anakin adds in with a leftover smile.

“The Council should have told us sooner.” Ahsoka pauses in her circuit around the room. “So that drunk we brought in was-- ?”

“Obi-Wan.”

Ahsoka winces. “And the one you nearly killed with our ship was-- ?”

“Obi-Wan.”

Ahsoka blows out a little breath, and flops down beside him.

“He is gonna be so mad when he gets back.”

Anakin leans his head on the back of the couch and nods. “That’s for sure.”

“What are we supposed to do? Just wait for him? What if he needs our help?”

Anakin frowns. “He’s deep in enemy territory right now. Master Yoda said we’ll have to wait until Obi-Wan gets in contact with us again, so that's what we'll have to do.”

Resting her arm over her eyes, Ahsoka groans.

Anakin levers his head to the side, suddenly aware of his own exhaustion. While his time with the healers had helped with some of it, he knows he needs to rest properly.

“When was the last time you slept, Snips?”

With her arm still over her eyes, Ahsoka shrugs lamely.

Anakin sighs and with more effort than should be needed, he pushes himself to his feet. “Well, I’m taking a shower and then taking a nap. I suggest you do the same.”

“If it’s just a suggestion…”

 _“Ahsoka.”_ Anakin puts all of the Force suggestion he possibly can into the word, though from what he can sense in their bond, he won’t need to push too hard. “Get some sleep.”

 

***

 

Yoda sits cross-legged on a raised cushion in one of the Temple’s many meditation rooms, completely still in the light-shafted darkness. His eyes are closed and one pointed ear is drooping. He hears the door slide open behind him, but he doesn’t move.

Mace sits down on the seat across from him, and pulls his legs up beneath him. He takes a long, deep breath, and feels like he’s breathing out a lung with the exhale. His hands are resting lightly on his knees.

One of Yoda’s ears twitch, and his eyes slit open.

“Kriffed up, we have,” he says.

Mace hums in agreement. “Now we need to figure out how to fucking fix it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *[ The Healing Crystals of FIYAH. ](http://starwars.wikia.com/wiki/Healing_Crystals_of_Fire) The Jedi have so much cool shit.  
> *I don't think it's out of character for Mace Windu to say fuck. In fact, I'm 90% sure he was the one who invented it, and it has survived space and time to be with us now.   
> *NEXT chapter will actually have Dooku, pink swear. Stay tuned!


	14. The Box, Part 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Queridos lectores:
> 
> Usted debe aprender a leer esto. Muchas puertas se abren cuando se puede leer en más de un lenguaje. Particularmente fanfic puertas. Aprender a leer en español, así que usted puede leer algunas de calidad porno en español.
> 
> Besos y abrazos,  
> Una idiota bilingüe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pulsion will be taking a lil hiatus while I update [Renegade](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8726092/chapters/20003212) this month. It will be back with a vengeance in March, though, so don't you worry! (I just think Finn-centric fics are necessary, and since next month *is* Black History Month I thought, heck, why not? Let's focus on Finn! And, of course, the repercussions of forming an accidental Force Bond with a patricidal man-baby who may or may not be developing an obsession over a certain Force Sensitive former Stormtrooper because, hey, who hasn't! But I digress...)
> 
> Thanks for reading, reviewing, and, most of all, enjoying, folks.
> 
> Love, Pop
> 
> PS: Everyone give a round of applause for **[sanerontheinside](http://sanerontheinside.tumblr.com/)** , a most awesome returning beta, and a real ray of sunshine.

Their ship comes to a shaky landing on the cobbled runway leading up to the Count’s castle. The landing gear whines terribly as the bulk of the junker is put on top of it, and the docking platform whirrs loudly as it slowly opens.

Eval is the first to leave the ship, all but skipping down the ramp. Bane comes out next, followed closely by Obi-Wan. Serenus disembarks last, trailing behind Obi-Wan like a living shadow.

They walk as a group across the small distance to where Dooku stands like a statue between his guards. The tall former Jedi has his hands pressed behind his back, and, as ever, a curved lightsaber hilt on his belt. His lips curl disdainfully beneath his grey beard when his corrupted eyes land on Eval. Their small troupe comes to stop just a few steps away from him, and Obi-Wan checks his shields. Decent.

For a full minute, Obi-Wan finds himself standing between two of the most dangerous former Jedi in the galaxy. Dooku with a frown on his face in front of him, and Serenus behind him, being as uncharacteristically silent as he had on the ship.

It’s… interesting, to say the least. One hand twitches involuntarily at his side, wishing for a lightsaber.

“Count Dooku, Moralo Eval apologizes for the delay. We--” Eval suddenly jerks away when two of Dooku’s Magna Guards break off from the square surrounding the Count and swing their electrostaffs dangerously close to him.

“Your careless delay could have ruined my plan, Eval,” Dooku growls out, and his golden eyes move behind the Phindian. “I see you at least remembered to pick up Lord Serenus, and Cad Bane is with you.” One sculpted grey eyebrow raises upward when he looks at Obi-Wan. “Who is the other one?”

Eval quickly looks over his shoulder at Obi-Wan, as if he’d momentarily forgotten who he was. “Th-this is Rako Hardeen. When Bane’s escape plan failed, we only succeeded thanks, um, thanks to Hardeen. I thought he might be useful for the... tournament.”

_Tournament?_

The word seems to surprise Bane as much as Obi-Wan, because the Duros bounty hunter scowls and says, “Enough small talk. I want my money.”

Obi-Wan takes the chance to step closer to Eval and away from Serenus. “That makes two of us,” he says, succeeding in sounding almost as angry as Bane.

Dooku does something strange, then. He smiles at them both, and as fake of a look as it may be, it’s enough to silence both of them. “You shall have it,” says the Count, “and perhaps much _more._ ”

He looks back and forth between the two of them, stopping to exchange a quick glance with Serenus that Obi-Wan almost doesn’t catch. “For _both_ of you, if you would like to enter our friendly little contest.”

 _This must have something to do with the plot against the Chancellor_ , Obi-Wan thinks, and he quickly agrees.

“I’m in,” he says, and adds with a gesture of his head at Bane, “if he’s in.”

Bane shares a look with Obi-Wan, and then turns his eyes back to Dooku. Unlike Eval, he isn’t cowed in the least.

“You already owe me for one job, Dooku. Anything else will cost you triple.”

Eval sucks in a shallow breath, and even Obi-Wan is impressed by Bane’s audacity. Dooku smiles at the bounty hunter, a proper smile, wolfish and murderous.

“I assure you that if you survive the challenge, the reward will be well worth it. Come, meet your fellow competitors.” Dooku turns on his heel and gestures deeper toward the estate grounds. Obi-Wan and Bane follow behind two of the Magna Guards, but not before shouldering roughly past Eval.

“I’ll kill ya the next time you try to pull one on me like this,” Bane snarls softly.

Obi-Wan doesn’t add anything to that. He doesn’t need to.

When they’re far enough away that Obi-Wan can look over his shoulder without worrying if cold, yellow eyes will be looking back, he spots Serenus heading down a different avenue with Dooku and the two other Magna Guards on either side of him. Obi-Wan breathes a short sigh of relief, but only a short one.

 

***

 

Jard is ready to kill Eval. If there’s one thing he doesn’t like, it’s waiting. Particularly when Sidious is made to wait as well because of it, but he calms himself. “We have all the contestants we need. Prepare the tournament.”

Eval presses a fist to chest and bows, “Yes, my lord.”

At least he knows fear.

Satisfied, Jard waits for Qui-Gon to come to his side before walking toward the estate, leaving Eval to wander where he must. Jard gives his former Padawan a moment to explain himself, but when Qui-Gon does not, Jard pushes the conversation forward as they enter the shadow of his castle.

“I’m surprised to see Rako Hardeen still alive.” He steps through one of the many side-doors leading into one of the many foyers of his estate. Cool, processed air drifts across the length of his body, and hard cobbles are replaced with polished durasteel. “Have you changed your mind already?”

“No.” Qui-Gon shrugs off his dark cloak and hands it to the nearest Magna Droid, who takes it gracefully. The dark tattoos stretching from the backs of his palms up beneath the arms of his tunic glow in the Force with a deep power, making even the bright light of the castle’s interior seem dimmed. He’s angry. Jard can feel it. “I’ve simply decided to wait. Something about him feels strange.”

Jard thinks back on his first impression of this Rako Hardeen. He hardly seemed the type to have killed a Jedi like Obi-Wan Kenobi, but looks can be deceiving.

“Well, until you have decided, shall I lock him up?” Jard means that. Of the few remaining beings he trusts in the galaxy, Qui-Gon stands at the top. If he asked, Jard would gladly kill Hardeen without any qualms.

“Let him participate in the contest if he wishes it.” Qui-Gon is already heading to the turbolift that will take him to his chambers. “I must meditate.”

“So you must,” Dooku says to Qui-Gon’s back, before shaking his head. “If you change your mind, warn me first. I may require him for this mission, if he survives the test.”

Qui-Gon stops just after stepping into the turbolift. “He will,” he says, simply, and the doors slide shut behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * **[A user named Jahaliel over on Tumblr wrote a poem based on this fic!](http://jahaliel.tumblr.com/post/156433473665/no-easy-thing) **How cool is that? I didn't even know fanpoetry was a thing people could get.****  
>  *Some lines taken from the Clone Wars episode "The Box" (Season 4 Episode 17)  
> *You can tear Qui-Gon being the last person Dooku truly cares about from my cold, dead hands, fuckdammit.  
> *'Where the fuck did she get the name Jard from?' you ask? From the Star Wars Fanon page, cheesebrain! Dooku can't very well refer to himself as 'Dooku' now can he? He isn't Yoda. He's allowed to have a first name (or is 'Yoda' Yoda's last name??? These are the real questions.)  
> *Okay, holy fuck. I just looked up what Yoda's first name was supposed to be, AND IT'S MINCH. IT'S **MINCH**. *laughing* miiiiiinch.Minch! mmmmmmMMinch. How the Minch Stole Attachments.


	15. The Box, Part 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Twelve bounty hunters and one disguised Jedi walk into the castle-like estate of a certain Separatist leader... _*insert hilarious punchline here*_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, uh, it isn't March anymore. But, on the plus side, I have some awesome news!
> 
> The draft for Pulsion is officially finished. Completed. Not exactly tidy, but it's all there. 90k words in all, which means about 60k more to go, which means this fic should end somewhere around 35 chapters. (Hallelujah, an ending in sight).
> 
> Thanks for sticking around, folks, and I hope you continue to do so. Updates will be weekly (Sundays) from now on.
> 
> Enjoy~
> 
> -Pop
> 
> PS: Ain't no beta but I this chapter. Plan accordingly.

Dooku’s estate is beyond lavish, but Obi-Wan isn’t given enough time to admire just how grandiose the Count’s interior decorating skills are as he and Bane are led through the estate and into a large room with floor-to-ceiling windows on each wall, and pillars sculpted into majestic shapes disappearing into the ceiling high above. On the far end is a table with a lily-white tablecloth, laden with colorful food and refreshments. The opulence of this single room is enough to make Obi-Wan wonder how Dooku ever managed to survive the humble life of a Jedi.

Eleven other bounty hunters are milling about the meeting hall, either in small groups or standing off by themselves. Closest to the front, a lithe-looking Frenk pauses mid-chat with a blonde-haired Weequay to stare at them as they enter the room. Bane tips his hat to them.

“Ladies.”

The Frenk scoffs and turns back to the dark-eyed Weequay, and continues talking as Obi-Wan and Bane make their way further into the room. Their magnaguard escort remains standing next to the entrance.

_To keep us from leaving, I suspect._

Obi-Wan recognizes Embo thanks to the pan-shaped hat on his head. His Anooba companion is nowhere to be seen, however, and the Kyuzo stands far away from everyone else, leaning against a pillar with his arms crossed. He doesn’t look up as they pass him by.

More of the bounty hunters begin to notice their presence. A Selkath mutters something to one of two Ithorians, one of which mutters something obscene in their native tongue.

A Sakiyan with tattoos running down his cheeks is the first to finally speak to them, with a large smile on face.

“If it isn’t Hardeen! Long time no see, my friend!”

Obi-Wan stops in his tracks as the Sakiyan barrels into him, wrapping his hands around Obi-Wan’s upper arms and shaking him.

“Er…” Obi-Wan looks from Bane to the Sakiyan. “Good to see you, uh…”

The Sakiyan’s red-orange eyes widen in hurt. “Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten Sixtat!” His smile quickly returns and he laughs jovially. “Ah, always the jokester, aren’t you? You’re trying to trick me!” He slaps Obi-Wan’s shoulder and pulls away. “You _bastard._ ”

Obi-Wan was afraid something like this might happen. While Rako Hardeen had been known to work alone, that didn’t mean he was wholly unknown in the bounty hunter world.

He puts on the cockiest smile he can muster, and hopes his acting skills are as good as his negotiating ones. “What the hells are you doing here, Sixtat?”

Sixtat raises a brow at him. “Why are any of us here? The promise of credits, of course.”

“Right, right. That’s obvious.” Obi-Wan agrees. “Any idea what this ‘competition’ of Dooku’s is going to be?”

Sixtat shrugs, already eyeing a waiter droid across the room carrying a platter of finger-food. “Damned if I know.” He pats Obi-Wan on the shoulder again. “It’ll probably be like that mission on Kessel all over again, eh?”

“Uh, yeah.” Obi-Wan gestures with his chin over at the droid. “If you’re hungry, go on.”

“Don’t mind if I do.”

Once Sixtat has wandered away from them, Bane jabs his elbow into Obi-Wan’s side.

“My guess, we’re gonna have to kill each other,” Bane says, utterly nonplussed.

“Hm,” Obi-Wan replies, “and I suppose you’re looking forward to the opportunity?”

“I don’t like games,” answers Bane, “but if it means credits? I’ll play.”

They aren't alone for long. Obi-Wan hears another pair of feet approaching them. The _click-clack-click_ of sharp bootheels and an immediate sense of warning in the Force brings his hand instinctively to where his lightsaber should be before he has even turned around.

“It’s about time I recognised someone here.” A harsh, yet appealing, voice purrs.

A woman, tall, pale, and red-haired, stands behind them, leaning all of her weight on one leg. A thin glass rests idly between her long fingers.

What guard Obi-Wan already has doubles. Aurra Sing. As dangerous, if not more so, than Cad Bane.

Bane tips his hat at her. Sing tilts her head.

“Cad. They let you out of prison already?” Sing asks, grinning like a nexu.

“Sure did,” Bane replies succinctly. “Finally decided to let poor Ohnaka go, did ya?”

Sing shrugs her thin, bony shoulders. “It would never have worked out between us anyway. Sure, he saved my life, but we’re just two different people.”

"That was obvious."

Aurra Sing dips her faint eyebrows down at him before glancing over at Obi-Wan. Her piercing green eyes travel down the length of him and back up, settling predator-like on his helmet.

“And who are you supposed to be?” she asks, with the air of someone that doesn’t particularly care.

Obi-Wan crosses his arms and looks over at Bane. “Are all your friends this polite?”

Bane and Sing reply at the same time, echoing each other. “We’re not friends.”

Then they’re both laughing. Sing letting out a wild titter that causes a few of the other bounty hunters to look their way, and Bane breathing out a soft chuckle.

“My name is Rako Hardeen,” Obi-Wan says as soon as they’re finished, “and I’m supposed to be a bounty hunter. What about you?”

Sing flashes teeth at him. “You already know who I am,” she says with utter confidence, before sashaying right up to him. She’s taller than him, and she leans down at the waist to peer into the eyes of his helmet. She doesn’t blink.

“Rako Hardeen,” she says, the words rolling past her lips like a lover’s whisper. “You’re the one that killed Obi-Wan Kenobi, aren’t you?”

“Yep,” Obi-Wan answers, and points a thumb at the end of the blaster rifle visible above his shoulder. “I used one of these.”

Sing’s eyelids droop, and she leans close enough that her mouth is almost pressing against the metal of his helmet. “That’s sexy,” she murmurs, and then she’s turning around so fast that the end of her long, auburn ponytail smacks Obi-Wan in the face. “No wonder you like him, Cad.”

With that, she walks off, leaving Obi-Wan and Bane standing in the aftershock of her appearance. Obi-Wan clears his throat and leans his head toward Bane.

“I’m sexy, am I?”

Bane scowls, but it almost looks like a smile. “Kinda are,” he says, just under his breath.

 _How do I get myself into these situations,_ Obi-Wan wonders as he follows after Bane, and gives serious thought to the possibility of sleeping with the bounty hunter before this mission is through.

They continue on their way until they’re at the table at the end of the room. The food is even fancier up close, resting on shining silver-white dishes. Obi-Wan feels like a spoiled senator at a party, with everyone doing their best to make him feel comfortable before sliding a knife into his back.

“We should eat something,” he says.

Despite saying that, Obi-Wan finds that he can’t muster up an appetite. He does grab a drink and, after making sure that it isn’t poisoned in any sort of way, pulls off his helmet and brings it to his lips. Expensive brandy slides its way down his throat and burns warmly in his belly.

“There’s one thing I can tell ya,” Bane says, leaning his hip against the table. “Everyone here.” He gestures around the room. “They’re some of the most dangerous bounty hunters in the galaxy. All of them are near the top o' the list."

Obi-Wan chuckles. “Is that a compliment I hear?”

Bane rolls his eyes and leans away from the table.

Duros are known to eat little to begin with, and Bane stays true to that stereotype and doesn’t grab anything to eat, either. Neither does he take anything to drink, instead folding his arms across his chest and taking another look around the room.

As he’s doing so, a Rodian with drug-ringed eyes that introduces himself as Jakoli saunters over to them.

“Greetings, friends. Got any spice to spare for--” he begins in slurred Rodese, only for Bane to to grab the open collar of his jacket in one hand, raise one blaster with the other, and level it between Jakoli’s starry eyes.

“You have ‘til the count a’one to buzz off, glit-biter,” he snarls, pushing Jakoli away.

Jakoli jerks back, antennae shooting straight up.

 _“Ittu!”_ he hisses harshly, before straightening out his red jacket and moving on to the next set of nearest bounty hunters.

Obi-Wan cocks an eyebrow up as Bane holsters his blaster.

“Hard to believe a spice addict is considered one of the top bounty hunters alive.”

“Jakoli.” Bane sneers. “There’s the real reason he doesn’t ever bring back a live bounty for ya. Half the time he don’t even realize he’s hunting someone.”

“How professional,” Obi-Wan mutters under his breath.

After that, it isn’t long before Dooku arrives, flanked by a score of magnaguards and one twitchy Phindian. Obi-Wan fits his helmet back into place before Dooku has a chance to look at him. Better safe than sorry. His scowl might tip the Count off as to who he truly is.

Eval shuffles close behind Dooku, ringing his hands together nervously. Anxiety reeks in the Force around him, enough to even rattle Obi-Wan’s nerves.

“Looks like they got rid of the other one,” Bane points out.

Obi-Wan nods. Serenus is nowhere to be seen, but Obi-Wan doesn’t dare press into the Force to see where his former master might be. It’s simply too risky. He’ll just have to be wary. As always. “Yeah, sure is.”

Dooku’s magnaguards quickly round up the bounty hunters scattered around the large room, and aside from a grumble from Sixtat and a dark, glinty glare from under Embo’s hat, it happens without incident. Soon, all thirteen of them are arranged before the Count.

“Allow me to escort you to the courtyard--” Dooku begins, before he is immediately interrupted.

“M’alweady eaddin’,” Sixtat protests through a mouthful of food.

“And we haven’t finished drinking,” the blonde-haired Weequay mutters, earning a smile from her tall friend.

“That, I’m afraid, can wait. Time is of the essence.” The Count looms over them, lips curled in polite disdain beneath his precisely trimmed beard at the present company.

It must rankle someone with who puts as much into appearance and social standing as Dooku to have bounty hunters, assassins, and vagabonds milling about his property like honored guests. It certainly amuses Obi-Wan to no end.

The magnaguards surround them, angling their electrostaffs just close enough that any remaining protests peter out and everyone does as they’re told.

Dooku and his droids lead them back out into the large courtyard of the estate, and the difference from earlier is immediately apparent.

“What the absolute fuck is that?” Sixtat croaks.

Floating a little ways above the dark-green grass and grey flagstones of the yard is a gargantuan cube. The outside of it is made of countless smooth plates of durasteel, reflecting the last rays of sunlight of the day. One turbolift seems to be the only way in, resting on the ground directly in their path.

“It’s a cube,” Obi-Wan says.

“It’s a box. _The_ Box,” Eval corrects him with a vicious, protective air. “Get it right next time.”

They’re left with a handful of moments to themselves as Dooku discusses something with Eval, and in that time, Bane manages to kill someone.

Standing nearby is a pair of Ithorians, one of which is wearing a very distinctive hat. Bane won’t stop staring at it.

Obi-Wan grabs Bane’s shoulder as he begins to move, but the bounty hunter simply shrugs him off and saunters over to the Ithorian brothers.

“Where’d you get that hat?” he asks, pleasantly enough.

The Ithorian with the hat looks at him, his beady eyes squinting. It’s obvious that he senses the danger that Bane poses. His large hands land on his pistols, but he isn’t nearly fast enough.

Bane’s blaster is back in it’s holster before the Ithorian has hit the ground, a smoking hole smoldering in his chest. The other Ithorian falls to his knees beside the former, as Bane picks up the hat and substitutes it with his own. He throws the old one carelessly atop the corpse.

Fury surrounds the other Ithorian, but he’s wise enough not to pull out his pistols . “I’ll kill you!” he howls.

Bane just adjusts his new hat, not even bothering to look down. He turns back to Obi-Wan as curses are spat at his back.

“And you can call Rikoli bad how, exactly?” Obi-Wan asks innocently.

Bane looks up at the the brim of his new hat, making a face at Obi-Wan. “This ain't a job," he says, "And 'sides. It's a nice hat.”

Obi-Wan scoffs. “You are impossible.”

“That’s _fashionable_ , thank ya very much.”

For a moment, Obi-Wan can’t quite believe his ears. Cad Bane, nefarious, blood-thirsty bounty hunter, cracking jokes. If anything could have made this situation -- standing around on Serenno getting smiled at by Count kriffing Dooku himself after having arrived on a transport with Serenus -- any more bizarre, it was most certainly that.

The magnaguards surround them once more, herding them into a semi-circle around Dooku, who motions for silence.

“Welcome to Serenno,” Dooku proclaims, allowing his inner orator to shine. “You have been invited here because you are the best bounty hunters in the galaxy.”

He sets his eyes on the Weequay. “Kiera Swan, two-time winner of the Obsidian Sphere.” They shift to a Parwan. “Derrown, known simply as the Exterminator.”

“Sixtat, the Outlands Butcher…” Sixtat waves, and nobody waves back.

“Embo,” Dooku smiles. “Your bounty tallies were second only to one last season… Cad Bane, who needs no introduction.”

Dooku inclines his head at Bane, who has his hat pulled low over his eyes. _Huh_ , Obi-Wan thinks in amusement. _I believe someone is shy._

“Rako Hardeen, the marksman of Concord Dawn.” Dooku doesn’t say any more than that. How rude.

“Jakoli, known for never bringing anyone back alive.” Jakoli blinks, a far-off look in his eyes.

Dooku grimaces at the dead Ithorian behind everyone. “Onca, you and your brother have been a legendary team. This challenge may prove difficult for you alone.” If Bane notices the look of pure hate given to him by the surviving Ithorian, he doesn’t show it.

“Twazzi, your acrobatics once earned you praise from Chancellor Valorum.”

The Frenk from earlier stoops her head down, smiling proudly.

Dooku continues, “Sinrich, inventor of the holographic disguise matrix…” A Snivvian with a large bald spot grins. Dooku nods back.

“Mantu, your people were once a peaceful race. “ He shakes his head. “How far they have fallen. And finally, Aurra Sing, the infamous Jedi Hunter trained by the legendary Anzati assassins. The Box should prove child’s play for a fellow Fallen Jedi such as yourself.”

“I was never a Jedi,” Sing says, dangerously and immediately. “I only kill them.”

A look of wry amusement passes over the Count’s face, before settling back into passive seriousness. “Of course. My mistake.”

“Are we gonna get this show on the road already?” Obi-Wan calls out. If he’s to play the role of hothead bounty hunter, he may as well play it fully. “I’ve killed Jedi faster than this.”

That earns him a few scattered giggles from the rest of the bounty hunters, and a particularly vile glare from the Count.

Dooku’s amber gaze lands on him, and a flash of what almost appears to suspicion passes across his eyes.

But it doesn’t last.

Dooku’s forced charm returns, and he inclines his head demurely.

“I’m pleased to see you so eager to begin,” Dooku says.

“Oh, yeah,” Obi-Wan agrees. “Real excited. Can’t wait. Been looking forward to it since the day I was born.”

The Count straightens up and smiles caustically at him. “I’m looking forward to seeing how well you do in the trials to come, Rako Hardeen.”

 _Trials._ That certainly doesn't fill Obi-Wan with hope that this will be simple. He needs to tread lightly here. He definitely needs to survive, but if anything causes the Count to question his identity, he’ll be in more trouble than he cares to think about.

_Tread lightly…_

For some reason, doing that is always easier when Anakin is around.

Dooku turns his attention back to the crowd of bounty hunters, raising his hands high into the air.

“In a few moments, all thirteen of you will enter what we call ‘The Box’.” Dooku reaches out his hand, pointing at the immense cube behind. Everyone turns to gaze at the distant plated walls. “Some of you will not make it out alive. For those who do, we are looking for the five most skilled among you. Any additional survivors will be eliminated to preserve the integrity of the job that awaits you.”

The magnaguards pull up a gurney in front of them. “Now please place your weapons here.”

“For those who choose to participate,” Dooku continues, “you will, of course, be paid most handsomely. But more than than that, you will be part of an operation that will be remembered as a turning point in the Clone Wars.”

“And I’m sure the ones that refuse will be given a thank you package on their way out,” Obi-Wan says under his breath.

He places his blaster rifle on the gurney, and Bane places his pistols on it as well, with the barest hint of hesitation.

Dooku watches them intently. “And when we succeed, we will bring the Republic to its pitiful knees.” He declares with a passionate air. Beneath his helmet, Obi-Wan rolls his eyes. _Please, for the sake of the Force, get on with it._

With the last of their weapons confiscated, Dooku releases his position at the front to Eval, who straightens up and points toward the elevator.

“Listen up,” says Eval. “The Box was designed by me, Moralo Eval.” There’s no shortage of pride in his words, that’s for sure. “To simulate certain... situations that might happen on the job. Go now. Enter the Box. If you have the courage.”

Together, they make their way to the Box, and step onto the turbolift together.

“I can’t believe they built this entire thing for one job,” Sixtat grumbles with a shake of his head.

With a click and a whirr, they ascend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Some lines taken from the Clone Wars episode "The Box" (Season 4 Episode 17)  
> *I’m not sure where the idea that Sixtat knew Hardeen came from. Oh wait, yeah I do. It’s that I find the fact that none of the other bounty hunters seemed to know Rako Hardeen really fucking stupid. Bounty hunters aren’t just all badass loners for fuck’s sake, right? S’dumb.  
> *I am madly in love with Aurra Sing. (And yes, it’s true, she was once a Jedi padawan! She failed out ofc, but the history is still there. No matter what anyone says about the EU not mattering, harrumph)  
> *Ittu (Pronounced ee-chu) – [curse word]; Rodese  
> *glit-biter: just a nasty name for a drug addict, basically


	16. The Box, Part 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just some bounty hunter death playground fun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello folks, happy Monday... I really don't have anything else to say besides that. Um.
> 
> Thanks for reading and reviewing, and, most of all, for enjoying!
> 
> Love,  
> Pop
> 
> PS: This chapter was beta read by [Jahaliel](https://jahaliel.tumblr.com/) and [ Zheawesomest](http://zheawesomest.tumblr.com/). They're both pretty brill.

The bounty hunters brought up into a pristine white chamber that sports square paneling on all sides. They each step off the turbolift, and look around.

As they begin to regard their surroundings, each wall buzzes and a large version of Eval’s face is projected onto each side.

“Yuck,” Bane grunts. Obi-Wan agrees.

“Before we begin our first challenge, let me say there is only one rule inside The Box.” Eval grins, baring yellow teeth. “There are _no_ rules.”

 _“Totti cano? Matarex prekay?”_ Embo demands. It must be a two-way connection within The Box, because Eval responds, slightly perturbed.

“The point, my friend,” he says, “is to escape -- and quickly -- because only the survivors will advance to the next challenge.”

The image dissolves, leaving behind the same white paneling as before.

Everyone is on edge -- the Force is ripe with apprehension as Obi-Wan and the rest of the contestants stand around, waiting for something to happen.

Suddenly, Sinrich jerks back when the middle of the floor sinks underneath his feet, opening up a shaft that releases a green gas into the room.

 _Didn’t I just go through this on Nal Hutta?_ Obi-Wan quickly covers the mouthpiece of his helmet, not that it will do any good. “Dioxis. Breathe it and you’re _dead_ ,” he says.

“Nice going, asshole!” Sixtat shouts at Sinrich as everyone backs away from the shaft. Gas continues to billow out, shifting and rising around their knees. As the gas progresses, several of the other floor panels begin to ascend to the ceiling in tall, rectangular blocks. Sixtat hops onto one.

“Every man for himself,” he declares.

In response, Embo jumps high, spinning around in the air to plant a kick square in Sixtat’s chest. The bounty hunter goes flying, and Embo takes his place.

 _This should be fun,_ Obi-Wan thinks.

More panels continue to rise, and each bounty hunter claims one with kicks, punches, and petty tricks. For a moment, Obi-Wan worries there won’t be enough for all of them, but when the last panel rises above the clouds of dioxis gas -- now so thick that the floor can no longer be seen -- each of them is on one.

Sixtat, one of the last to clamor onto one, wipes a hand across his chin. “That wasn’t so hard,” he says, but just as he does, the panel beneath Twazzi jerks and rises toward the ceiling at double the speed it had before. Twazzi jumps off just as the top slams into the ceiling, and catches herself between two of the other pillars.

“Stop talking!” she snaps at Sixtat, who at least has the decency to look sheepish.

The panels rise one at a time, forcing more and more of the bounty hunters onto lower perches.

Derrown, tentacles still wrapped around his panel, exclaims, _“Za leep din-raar!”_ in frantic Parwa, jabbing two of his tentacles towards the floor.

“What’d he say?” Bane asks.

Obi-Wan stares at the floor, calculating and translating what little Parwa he knows. “The way isn’t up,” he finally says, and points towards the floor. “It’s down.”

Bane scowls. “Fat lot of help knowin’ that is.”

Obi-Wan considers his options. He can get through the dioxis if he absolutely has to -- Jedi breathing techniques allow for one to hold their breath for extended periods of time, even in toxic environments, but doing so would no doubt bring Dooku’s curiosity down upon his head. The Box is rigged to act as a giant recording device, watching and judging their next move. There’s no way he can do this without being noticed. He scrapes his hand along the top of his helmet, and...

His helmet.

Force, he’ll need to keep this wonderful thing after this mission is over.

“The filters in my helmet can protect me for a short time,” he tells Bane. “I’ll scout a way out.”

Obi-Wan takes a deep breath, and hops off of his pillar into the murky depths below. He lands crouching, stands, and begins to look around. It’s difficult to see through the gas, but when the tips of his toes touch empty air, he realizes exactly where they have to go.

The end is at the start. It’s almost poetic.

Obi-Wan jumps down into the shaft where the dioxis had originally issued from, and, sure enough, when he reaches the bottom, the air is clear. He exhales, and searches the small space until hydraulics hiss, and a panel pulls back near his feet, revealing a secret crawlspace.

Obi-Wan cups a hand around his helmet’s mouthpiece. “There’s a hole in the floor which gets you below the gas line,” he shouts. “Jump down the hole and follow the tunnel!” With that, Obi-Wan gets on his hands and knees and begins to crawl.

He soon hears the soft thump of people landing behind him. Obi-Wan continues down the tunnel until it suddenly angles up. He stops just before he has to start to climb, and looks behind him. Bane is coming up fast, his hat clutched between his teeth to keep from getting caught on the narrow space between his head and the top of the tunnel.

“I’m going up,” Obi-Wan says, and Bane nods as Obi-Wan lays his hands flat on opposite sides of the ascending tunnel and begins to move his way up. When he reaches the top, he finds himself in a room that is completely dark. He looks around, and, eventually, Bane appears at the lip of the hole as well, his hat back on his head.

Obi-Wan extends a hand to help him up. “What took you so long?” he asks, smiling underneath his helmet. Bane sneers and slaps his hand away, climbing to his feet on his own.

The rest of the bounty hunters soon follow until they have all crowded at the top of the new pillar in the center of the dark. The room doesn’t light up, nothing and nobody moves, the only sound their various styles of breathing.

“Maybe this is the break room,” Sixtat ventures jokingly, before a quick kick from Kiera to his shin leaves him whimpering quietly.

“Moralo Eval is impressed. No casualties on the first challenge.” The Phindian’s disembodied voice fills the dark room with a boom, and the darkened panels of the four walls at eye level fill once more with a gigantic view of his face.

“I think I preferred the dioxis,” Bane mutters. Obi-Wan agrees.

The pillar beneath them begins to descend until it’s level with the floor, Eval smiles a four foot long smile down at them at them. “I guarantee you that will not be the case in the next one.” His image evaporates until the cubes are blank and dark once more. Obi-Wan steps off of where the platform used to be and looks around with everyone else. No, there’s something different about this room. The panels on the wall, ceiling, and floor aren’t blank here. Each of them has a diamond-shaped design on them, and as the contestants spread around to the corners of the room, there is a click and whir in front of Obi-Wan. As he looks on, one of the panels opens up at the center of the diamond-shaped designs, and something that looks faintly like the handle of a lightsaber peeks out.

Then a bright, orange laser blade that is _definitely_ meant to resemble a lightsaber issues out of it, and the panel flies forward on a long pillar.

Obi-Wan steps out of the way, and behind him, Onca ducks as the pillar stops just inches above his head. The bladed-pillar sinks back into the wall, but as it does, more panels light up with the faux-lightsabers and slam forward. Over and over again this happens, until the room is a maelstrom of bright orange blades, fast pillars, and frenetic bounty hunters.

Their dodging turns into a dance of sorts. They twirl, spin, duck, jump, doing whatever they can to avoid the blades. Onca is the first to die, impaled through the back as he squeezed himself desperately against the wall. The pillar pushes his limp body forward, before darting back and leaving it slumped on the ground.

Obi-Wan and Bane are brought back-to-back. Obi-Wan sinks low to avoid a pillar at eye-level, while Bane jumps to avoid one by his knees. He lands, Obi-Wan rises, and they turn as one and push away from each other to avoid a pillar snapping forward where they had just been.

Adrenaline thuds through Obi-Wan’s body, heightening his senses and making the danger seem exciting. He almost feels like laughing, and cocks a thumb at Onca’s body. “That’s a shame. He didn’t even get a chance to avenge his brother.”

Bane presses a hand on his hat to hold it in place as he ducks, avoiding a pillar, hat and all. “It ain’t a shame. This stupid room just saved me some blaster bolts.”

The chaos soon forces all of the bounty hunters into the center of the room, pressed tightly together to keep themselves from being impaled. Obi-Wan watches the pillars carefully. These rooms weren’t built solely to kill them (he hopes); they were built to be overcome, like a test. As he watches the pillars, he begins to notice a pattern among the way they move. If he focuses less on the blades and more on the pillars, following them up and up… yes, that’s it!

“I know how to get out,” exclaims Obi-Wan.

Bane seems to be the only one that hears him. “Show me,” he says.

“There’s a pattern to the blades,” Obi-Wan explains. “Watch. That one’s next.” Obi-Wan points towards a panel in the wall, and, sure enough, it pushes forward only seconds after he said it would. “If I can time it right, I can climb up to that exit shaft. Just follow me and time your jump.”

Bane watches the sequences of pillars a few moments longer before nodding. “Go,” he says.

Obi-Wan bends at the knees and waits for the pattern to restart. As soon as the final pillar reaches the space below the exit shaft, he jumps forward. He lands on the first pillar closest to the floor just as it pushes forward, and jumps again as it begins to recede. He keeps this pace up, not slowing for an instant.

“Get going!” he shouts down at Bane, who seems intent on gawking along with the rest of the bounty hunters. “I know I look good."  Jump. “But you’ll have a way better view if.” Jump. “You start moving!”

One of the other bounty hunters, Kiera, starts to jump at his words, but she times it wrong. A pillar slams into her from the side, the blade bursting out above her hip in a shower of sparks. Obi-Wan hears Twazzi give out a sharp, forlorn cry.

“Just go!” he shouts again. “Unless you wanna end up like her!”

Sing is the first one to follow him up, hopping from pillar to pillar with ease. Bane is right behind her, followed by Twazzi, whose blue eyes shine wetly in the dark as she races on the wall from one pillar to the next, perfectly balanced. Embo suddenly skips ahead of her, landing after a high, spinning jump. Derrown pushes himself slowly along the bottom of the pillars after them, held aloft by the gases within his body that keep him slightly lighter than the surrounding atmosphere.

The rhythm of the pillars suddenly starts to turn more erratic. The path they have to take is obscured by more and more unnecessary pillars, slamming forward ahead and behind them. One misses Bane by an inch and sends the bounty hunter falling back until he’s clutching the edge of his pillar by his fingertips.

Obi-Wan doesn’t hesitate in going back and helping him. He doesn’t question why he does it, nor if Bane deserves it. He just isn’t in the mood to see anyone else die today. Sing races ahead of him in a flurry of auburn hair, and disappears into the shaft in the ceiling.

“Sure was nice of her to wait,” Obi-Wan notes. Bane just grunts in response.

Obi-Wan continues to climb, and around him the dark room turns into bright flashes of orange, buzzing light. When he reaches the uppermost pillar, he doesn’t wait. He races to the end of it, and jumps, catching himself within the shaft as the pillar beneath his feet sinks back into the wall. He shimmies up the small crawlspace, and looks down every once in awhile to see the surviving bounty hunters climbing after him.

At least some of them made it.

A voice calls down to him from above, and Obi-Wan looks up to find Sing’s pale face smiling down at him. “Hurry up,” she says. “I’m getting sick of waiting.”

The third room is bathed in a dull red light. As the last of them clamber up and out of the floor, Eval’s face materializes on the paneled wall in front of them. He looks frustrated, and Obi-Wan swears his eyes are looking directly down at him.

Bane is too exhausted to make any snide remarks. Obi-Wan agrees.

“To reach your final challenge, you must pass through my ray shield,” Eval says, and on cue the walls suddenly light up in a bright, hissing shield. In front of them, the wall sinks away to reveal a single switch. “The switch to turn it off,” Eval tells them, with a particularly vile smirk, “is on the other side.” He glances downwards, and behind Obi-Wan a panel rises up from the floor. It opens up, and single syringe with a glowing, green concoction inside is lifted up out of it.

“The syringe on the platform contains a highly electrolytic serum that will allow you to pass through the shield,” Eval tells them. “However, it is toxic to all but one of you.” He giggles madly, and the wall shuts off once more.

Embo turns to Obi-Wan, his eyes illuminated in the darkness beneath his wide hat. _“Pano toni,”_ he says with a sweep of his arm. _“Passo-gran-sheesay.”_

“So it would seem,” concurs Obi-Wan. Embo is right: the shields are moving. They can feel it in the air. They don’t have much time to decide who will get to be injected.

Mantu moves up close to one part of the shield, staring at it critically. Meanwhile, Jakoli moves farther away, towards for the only wall that isn’t shielded, feeling along it. As they do, the panels around the syringe begin to rise, lifting Bane, Sing, Twazzi, Embo, and Sixtat -- who nearly falls off -- higher than the rest of them. Then, the panels beneath Obi-Wan, Sinrich, Derrown, and Mantu begin to rise as well, resulted in a pyramid-like structure above the floor. Jakoli turns towards them, shock plain on his face.

 _This isn’t going to end well,_ Obi-Wan thinks.

Jakoli moves away from the wall and begins to sprint towards them, but he doesn’t very far before the floor beneath him lights up with a ray shield. Jakoli is held in place by the shield as he’s electrocuted, currents of red-gold electricity snaking up his legs and across his body. His scream is blood-curdling, and lasts for far too long before he sinks to the floor beneath the shield, dead. The air reeks of cooked flesh and burning cloth.

“That looked like it hurt,” Sixtat mutters, and beside him, Sing rolls her eyes.

“He was electrocuted, fool,” she says with a snarl. “Of course it kriffing hurt.”

The wall with the switch had risen as well, and four panels between it and the platforms the bounty hunters are on rise from the floor, connecting them like a bridge.

Derrown is closest to the bridge, hovering slightly in the air. One of his three eyes squints in thought, and he looks from the switch to the syringe before making his way over to the latter.

Bane grabs the tentacle that wraps itself around the syringe. “Hey! Who you put you in charge?” he demands, wrestling the syringe out of the Parwan’s grasp.

 _“Sa leep gaj ma ta-reel!”_ Derrown responds angrily, floating a safe distance away from Bane.

Bane sucks his lips closed and growls. “Does anyone know what this gasbag is sayin’? Hardeen?”

Obi-Wan nods and moves forward, taking the syringe from Bane. “He says he can get us out of this,” he answers, handing the syringe to Derrown. “He’s a Parwan. His blood can take the electrolytic serum.”

 _“Din rar.”_ Derrown agrees, pursing his lips smugly at Bane.

Bane bares his teeth in return. “Ya certain?” he asks Obi-Wan.

Obi-Wan clicks his teeth together. “Fifty-fifty. Depends on the blood type of the Parwan.”

Bane sighs and rolls his eyes, arms crossed. “Gr _eat_.”

Derrown floats his way across the bridge as the platform the rest of them are standing on begins to fall away. Some of the bounty hunters hop over onto the bridge, while the rest huddle close on what remains of the original platform. Obi-Wan finds himself pressed in close next to Bane.

“Sure found a good excuse to get in close, Bane,” Obi-Wan jokes. “Should we hug?”

Bane smirks back at him, though it’s the wild look of someone who is more than prepared to die. He grips Obi-Wan’s forearm to keep his balance. “When we get outta here, then we can talk.”

Derrown looks back at them, and Obi-Wan encourages him on. “Hurry. Use the serum.”

Inhaling until his cheeks expand, Derrown uncovers the syringe and brings it down onto a tentacle. The needle sinks in deep, and the air around the Parwan sparks as the serum mixes with his already unstable blood.

The platform behind Obi-Wan and Bane falls away completely, forcing all of the bounty hunters even closer. Derrown shakes his head, wriggles his tentacles, and brings one up to the shield blocking the switch. It sparks dangerously as soon as the tips come into contact with it, but Derrown doesn’t get electrocuted. Instead, his tentacles pass cleanly through the shield. 

“That’s good! Keep going!” Obi-Wan shouts as the shields around them continue to close in. Mantu accidentally catches one on the side of his shoulder. He shakes, volts of electricity skidding through his body and smoke rising up from his pores, before he finally falls flat between the panels. Somehow, he’s still alive.

A second panel falls to the floor, forcing them each forward another step. Sing, Sixtat, and Embo climb across Mantu’s back, to a loud and colorful array of curses. The platform beneath Mantu’s feet begins to descend as well, throwing the Selkath off balance. Obi-Wan reaches out a hand to help him, but it’s too late. Mantu slips, and falls onto the shielded floor.

He shrieks, spasms, and then his body goes still as his corpse falls through the shield.

“We only need to lose a couple more, and we’ll be good,” Sing says behind Obi-Wan, darkly. Obi-Wan grits his teeth and ignores her.

Derrown continues to push himself through the shield. First, a tentacle. Then, a shoulder. Finally, more than half his body is through, and he is reaching, reaching, reaching… The shield presses in, close enough to cause the hairs on Obi-Wan’s arms to stand on end beneath his jacket. He can feel the electricity in the air, sizzling against his skin, inching closer and closer until

until it’s gone. The room is completely dark, and Obi-Wan lets out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. Ahead of him, Derrown turns around and grins at all of them.

The wall where the switch had been falls away, revealing a long, white hallway. The spaces between the remaining platforms of the bridge fill up with other panels, and together, the remaining seven bounty hunters make their way forward.

Bane picks at a singed spot on his hat as he walks, pulling away the soot and burned leather. “His blood. How’d ya know about it?” he asks, that old suspicion sharpening his words.

 _There was a Parwan instructor in the Jedi Temple when I was a youngling. I always liked her._ “I used to kill Parwans for a living,” he says.

Derrown blinks at him, eyes widening. _“Ga?”_

“Calm down,” Obi-Wan says, as the hallway stretches out ahead of them, revealing nothing of what is to come. “I said _used_ to.”

***

The control center for The Box lies in a small room within the mechanism itself, well away from the testing areas. Holoscreens line the dark walls, offering up different angles of the bounty hunters as they make their way towards the final test. Moralo sits at his terminal, fingers poised over the keyboard as he watches the holocams almost obsessively.

There’s one bounty hunter in particular that Moralo has his eyes on, lips curling back from his teeth as Hardeen moves from one screen to the next, _still not dead._

Behind Moralo, Count Dooku lets out a disappointed breath. “Your Box does not appear to be as much of a challenge as I thought,” he says. “Perhaps I should put Hardeen in charge of the mission.”

Moralo’s blood boils. He imagines smashing Hardeen’s skull between his hands, the bounty hunter’s blood, brain and bone bits flying everywhere. He imagines Hardeen begging for him to stop, and relishes in the imagined noise. He’s angry enough that his natural fear of the Count no longer seems to matter.

“But this was _Moralo Eval’s_ plan,” he interjects, turning away from his terminal and the screens. “You promised Moralo Eval the lead role.”

Count Dooku looks down at him, brows furrowed. “You have one last test to change my mind.”

Moralo grinds his teeth together. Blood, brain and bone bits, and Hardeen begging beneath him. Moralo is many, many things, the most important of which is someone that always gets what he desires. _Always._

“Do not fear, Count Dooku,” he says as walks past the Count. “I will show you who is weak.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Some lines taken from the Clone Wars episode "The Box" (Season 4 Episode 17)  
> * _Za leep din-raar!:_ (Parwa) I couldn’t find a specific translation of this line, but I like to think Derrown was telling them “Look down, dumbasses!”. It isn’t even actually called ‘Parwa’ -- the language doesn’t have a name. I just think Parwa sounds cool.  
>  * _Totti cano? Matarex prekay?:_ (Kyuzo) I couldn’t find a definitive translation to this, either, but hopefully you can figure it out through subtext and all that fun sort of stuff. One interesting thing I did learn, though? Apparently, the Kyuzo language was comprised primarily of intentionally mispronounced French words from children’s books about The Smurfs. I am completely serious about that, too. I don’t know how true it is exactly, since the reference source on wookieepedia didn’t have a working link, but in my heart, I don't want it to be true. Tis so lazy.  
>  * _Pano toni. Passo-gran-sheesay.:_ (Kyuzo) No accurate translation available, but we can assume it’s somewhere along the lines of, “We are so fucked.”  
>  * _Sa leep gaj ma ta-reel!:_ (Parwa) I mean, obviously this is the Parwan way of saying that he can save all their asses.  
>  * _Din rar.:_ (Parwa) I’m 90% sure this means “Damn right.” May I be struck down if I’m wrong.  
>  * _Ga?:_ (Parwa) Come on, it so means “What?”  
>  *The next update will be somewhere in the Sunday-Monday area. Stay tuned~


	17. The Box, Part 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> My apology porn to Anakin for the absolute headache that is this fucking arc continues (and am I subtly trying to allude to the fact that Anakin has ADHD? You bet your butt I am. I know, I know, "You should let the text speak for itself" but if you see what I mean and wonder, yes. That's what I'm alluding to.)
> 
> Also, YAY! FINAL EVENT OF THE BOX! WE'RE ALMOST OUT, LOVES.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good evening, all you lovely egg yolks! How's your Monday? Soul-sucking and awful? WHOOP. S A M E.
> 
> Anyways, me aside, I hope you enjoy the chapter, I really do. This one was fun to write. I mean, they all are, but I have a particular fondness for this one because of the excess of flamethrowers. Those are fun.
> 
> -Pop
> 
> PS: Beta read by the lovely [ Torliway](http://torliway.tumblr.com/).

Anakin is asleep on his couch, lying on his side with his head curled under his arm, when the sound of the door chime wakes him. He sits up and pulls a hand through the tangle on his head, hair curling like commas around his face before he pushes himself to his feet and answers the door without asking who it is.

Mace Windu fills his doorway, dark eyes taking in Anakin’s disheveled appearance with something approaching curiosity. Anakin doesn’t say a word.

“May I come in?” Windu asks, peaceably.

Either Anakin is still half asleep, or part of him is still naive enough to hope that Windu is here to offer some good news, because he steps aside and gestures at the couch.

“Want any caf?” Anakin asks as he lets the door slide closed with a faint click, jaw popping as he yawns.

Windu perches himself on the edge of a couch cushion, looking for all the galaxy like he’d rather die than make himself comfortable.

“It’s ten o’clock at night, Skywalker.”

“Oh.” Anakin isn’t surprised by that. It is dark outside, but he doesn’t feel like he’s gotten a decent night’s sleep yet. His eyelids feel heavy, and the faint beginnings of a tension headache are pressing against the crown of his head, threatening to build up the longer he keeps his eyes open.

Anakin dulls the faint ache as much as he can with the Force, and moves into the kitchen to grab a cup of caf from the dispenser. Caffeine has never done much aside from calm him down, but with Mace Windu sitting in his living room looking like he’s about to tell him that Obi-Wan has _actually_ died, Anakin needs all he can get to calm his nerves.

He returns to the living room with a warm mug between his hands a few minutes later to find that Windu has taken his cloak off. The dark umber material is folded nearly over the back of Anakin’s couch.

 _E chu ta_ , Anakin thinks as he takes a seat in the chair across from the couch. _He’s making himself comfortable._

Windu silently considers his words, hands gripping his knees and eyes skidding up towards the ceiling as he mulls whatever it is he came here to say. Anakin sips at his drink. It tastes bitter on his tongue with a rusty aftertaste -- the brew is too damn old. Yet he continues to swallow small mouthfuls of it, mostly so he has an excuse not to talk. Windu continues to ponder quietly, so Anakin shifts his focus onto Ahsoka along their bond.

She’s out cold. Not even her subconscious stirs at his presence. Anakin smiles against the ceramic lip of his mug, and lets her be.

“I owe you an apology,” Windu finally tells him, “I’m sorry.”

One of the few things that Anakin has always liked about Mace Windu is the fact that the man always means exactly what he says. He never lies (omission of truth notwithstanding), and he never offers up flimsy reasoning for his actions. If he believes himself to be right, he explains it thoroughly; if he finds himself to be wrong, he apologizes, wholeheartedly -- none of that ‘if’ or ‘I think’ banthashit that so many of the other Jedi Masters like to spew. Anakin may not like him, he may not even really trust him, but he does respect him.

“Has there been any word on Obi-Wan?” Anakin asks.

Windu shakes his head, a deep worry settling into the lines around his eyes. The man looks like he hasn’t seen a bed in days, Anakin realizes with a pang of sympathy. “Nothing. The last transmission we received advised us to keep radio silence until he contacts first. He’s in deep, Anakin. Very deep.”

Serenus’s face flashes through Anakin’s mind for the barest of moments, smiling a predator’s smile. A smile that hungered for blood, and encouraged vengeance.

“I think Serenus might try to kill him.”

The lines around Windu’s eyes deepen even more. “He found him out?”

“No…” Anakin stares down into the shifting brown contents in his mug. “I was… I happened to run across Serenus during my investigation on Nal Hutta. He was there for the same reason I was: to hunt down Rako Hardeen.” Anakin’s brows press together as he remembers what had occurred in the shuttle. “He was unsettled by Obi-Wan’s death. Angry.” He looks up and meets Windu’s intense gaze. “He wanted to kill Hardeen for killing Obi-Wan.”

Windu’s eyes widen, until the stark darkness of his iris is surrounded by white, and he thumps a fist softly against his leg. “Fuck,” he curses sharply. _“Fuck.”_

“Obi-Wan will make it back,” Anakin hears himself saying, straining to believe the words. Obi-Wan is careful, and if there is a single being left in the universe that knows how to work his way around the former Qui-Gon Jinn, it’s him. Obi-Wan has done it before. On Jabiim. On Ilum. On Toydaria. Anakin knows he can do it again. “He’ll make it back.”

Windu looks like he’s aged twenty years in as many minutes, but he exhales through his nose and nods. “The Force is with him, and so is his damned ability to negotiate a planet out of orbit.”

Windu starts to visibly relax more and more after that, and Anakin finds himself doing so as well. It almost seems natural to have the Jedi Master sitting in his apartment, sprawled on his couch, doing nothing but chatting.

Then Windu goes and ruins it.

“Master Yoda told me that you spoke with him,” says Windu, one eyebrow moving up. “And you know about Toba Yon’s shields, though I doubt Yoda told you that. I guess that means there’s nothing left hidden from you, is there?”

“Pretty much,” Anakin agrees.

Windu eyes him critically, gauging his response. “You know Obi-Wan volunteered for this, don’t you?”

“And he was the one that didn’t want me to know about it.” Anakin’s hands tighten hard around his mug, and feels like the skin on his palms is burning off. He pictures Orondia again: Hardeen’s (Obi-Wan, he reminds himself. Obi-Wan’s) reckless maneuvers with the junker, the fact that Anakin had nearly killed him (before nearly being killed himself), all for a ruse. It sours the caf even more, and he sets it down on the table with the intent of not drinking from it again. “I remember.”

Something bordering on sympathy passes over Windu’s features, but as honest as the man is, he’s as Master Yoda when it comes to handling the emotions of others. Anakin wouldn’t be surprised if Windu suggests he meditate on the mixed feelings he has about the entire situation.

Surprisingly, he doesn’t.

“It was wrong to keep you in the dark,” says Windu. “I had that feeling from the beginning. I want you to know that.”

Anakin takes the information and files it away, but he feels no gratitude for it. Good intentions mean nothing if they aren’t acted upon.

“Isn't there anything at all that we can do for Obi-Wan?” he asks.

Windu sighs and leans back, rubbing against his eyelids with the thumb and forefinger of his right hand.

“We suspect that Eval and Dooku will attempt to carry out their mission against the Chancellor during the Festival of Light on Naboo. That means Obi-Wan will be there, too.”

Anakin appreciates the fact that Windu doesn’t add _‘if he survives’_ , but he keeps his mouth shut and acts surprised about the information regarding the Festival. The Chancellor had told him all about it days ago, and Anakin isn’t about to betray that trust to Mace Windu of all people.

Windu takes in a breath. Exhales. “The reason I came by here was to ask if you would like to be a part of the Jedi complement at the event,” Windu explains. “Would that interest you?”

Anakin knows what this is. Wholeheartedly: that’s how Mace Windu apologizes. This is Windu’s way of trying to make up for the absolute kark up this mission has become. Anakin doesn’t have to think about the offer for too long. Protecting a good friend? The chance to see Padmé? The perfect opportunity to confront Obi-Wan about such an eopie’s ass as quickly as possible? How could he refuse?

“On one condition,” he replies. “You let me bring Ahsoka along.”

***

The long, brightly-lit white tunnel empties the bounty hunters out into another large, paneled room. Obi-Wan, Bane, Sing, Derrown, Embo, Twazzi, and Sixtat come to the stop at the edge of their platform as Eval’s voice filters in through unseen speakers.

“The final challenge has arrived,” he declares, followed by a loud mechanical whir far below them.

Obi-Wan looks over the side to find the panels on the floor pushing open, revealing countless flamethrower nozzles. Flames whoosh out a few seconds, bathing the room in a bright yellow heat. Obi-Wan leans away from the edge as the scent of burning fuel fills the air.

“ _Grosso pozzi nix strumpf?_ ” Embo asks, followed by another, softer mechanical whirr. They all turn to the left to find part of the wall sliding away, revealing Moralo Eval. The flames below them stretch out his shadow across the left wall.

“Unfortunately, no,” Eval tells Embo, before pressing his finger to a button on his chrono. A section of the floor flamethrower rises up from the rest, surrounding the platform. For some seconds, the bounty hunters are surrounded by walls of thick flame on all sides. Then, the floor panels slap into place, and what’s left is a much larger platform around them.

 _Covered with hidden flamethrowers,_ Obi-Wan reminds himself calmly. He wonders distantly why Eval has come to watch them. It must mean something even deadlier than normal is about to happen.

Along with the new parts of the platform rises a long, rectangular case. One side of it opens to reveal a BAW E-5s sniper rifle. Obi-Wan is mildly impressed with himself for having remembered that (one tends to learn things when they don’t wish to be blasted into tiny, smoldering bits), but it’s soured by Eval’s next words.

“We are going to test your sniper skills,” says Eval, clicking the chrono on his wrist again. A small, glowing target appears on the wall beside him, and darts along the panels, leaving a glowing trail in its wake. “Hit the target.” As he says so, the wall the target is on sinks back and slides at least six yards away.

Their “target” is barely as big as a shadowmoth. There’s no way any of them can hit it, not without the Force to help them. Obi-Wan knows what he has to do. He reaches for the rifle--

\--and Sixtat pushes himself between Obi-Wan and the case.

“Step back, boys,” he says, oozing confidence. “I’ll show you how it’s done.”

“Are you _sure_ about this?” Obi-Wan asks as Sixtat hefts the blaster into his hands.

Sixtat laughs and looks down the scope. “Rako, my friend, it’ll be just like that time on Florrum. Remember?”

Obi-Wan sighs. He’s about to watch this man kill himself. Great. “Yeah,” he lies. “Good luck, Sixtat.”

Sixtat grins and clicks off the safety, and moves himself to the very end of the platform. He hits the target the first two times with ease, and Obi-Wan is _almost_ hopeful that somehow, someway, Sixtat the Outlands Butcher will surprise them all. He is one of the best for a reason, after all.

Right as Obi-Wan thinks that, Sixtat misses the third shot. The panel beside the target glows an angry red, and Sixtat doesn’t even have a chance to turn around before the floor beneath him gives away, and he falls, screaming, into the flames below.

There’s an echoed _ooh!_  from the remaining bounty hunters, and a chuckle from Eval. Bane taps Obi-Wan on the shoulder.

“Sorry ‘bout your friend,” he says.

Obi-Wan shrugs. Despite himself, he’s becoming kind of numb to it. “He said he was sure.”

The platform doesn’t regain the section that it lost when Sixtat missed. That’s not good, because it means that the more of them that miss, the shorter the platform gets. Obi-Wan once again knows what he has to do.

The case closes and opens again with another sniper rifle inside, hopefully a fresh one, and Obi-Wan and Sing exchange sidelong glances. Obi-Wan wouldn’t be too hurt if Sing burned alive.

“Ladies first,” Obi-Wan says, gesturing at the new rifle that replaced the last.

Sing crosses her long arms and gives him a narrow look, and in the light of the flamethrowers lining the floor, she looks absolutely demonic.

“Save the best for last, Rako,” she replies smoothly, before turning around and stalking back to the rest of the group at the center of the platform.

Obi-Wan grabs the rifle without arguing.

Obi-Wan bounces it in his hands just enough to get a feel for the weight of the weapon -- it’s lighter than a Republic DC-15x -- and looks down the scope. He takes in a breath, and holds it as he steps up to the end of the platform and fires.

He hits the target, and doesn’t wait to fire again. He squeezes the trigger, and hits the second one just as easily. And then the third.

After the third shot, the target comes to a stop, but it doesn’t disappear. A click behind him makes Obi-Wan turn, and he finds the platform with the remaining contestants rising high above him.

_That isn’t good. That is definitely not good._

Obi-Wan looks over at Eval, who bares his teeth in something Obi-Wan assumes is meant to be a smile. “This isn’t the first time you’ve saved everybody’s skin, Hardeen,” he says, tilting his head to the side, eyes wide and unblinking. “Five more hits.”

Obi-Wan waves the rifle in the air. “Hey, arsehole!” Asshole, he should have said asshole. Damn. “This kind of blaster only has four shots. What do you want me to do, throw my helmet at the target next?”

Eval sneers, but slides a finger across the screen of his chrono. The gauge on the side of Obi-Wan’s rifle flares green. “There, it’s been modified,” he hisses. “Let’s see how good you really are.” Eval clicks his chrono again, and the platform around Obi-Wan falls away until all that’s left is a thin strip of panels for him to stand on.

_This just isn’t fair._

Obi-Wan hefts up his blaster and aims at the target again, but as his finger begins to squeeze the trigger, the target splits in two. Both of them flit off in different directions.

Obi-Wan sighs and takes a breath. _This is_ **_really_ ** _not fair._

He hits the target on the left first, before swinging around and hitting the right as it slides above its frozen other half. The targets buzz, and begin to move faster and faster, creating a maze of glowing trails along the wall.

Obi-Wan exhales, takes another breath, and calls upon the Force to guide him.

Third shot. Fourth shot. It’s almost impossible to see the targets now. Only one more to go. Obi-Wan narrows his eye and squeezes the trigger.

Then he squeezes it again.

And again.

Kriff.

Eval’s chortle echoes around the room. “Oh, what a shame. Out of charges. Guess you were just a pretty face after all.” His teeth gleam yellow in the light. “It’s also important as a bounty hunter to be lucky, and your luck just... ran... _out_.”

Eval presses a button on his chrono, and the panel in front of Obi-Wan falls away. Obi-Wan jumps back as the second panel falls, and throws the empty rifle over the side as the third and fourth fall together as one. There isn’t a coherent thought running through his head as he moves farther away, until his back collides with the wall of the higher platform.

Every curse word in every language that Obi-Wan knows buzzes through his head as the sixth, seventh, and eighth panels fall as well. He can jump, use the Force to save himself, but that would only lead to his identity being revealed. Obi-Wan imagines what would happen to him if Dooku, if _Serenus_ , discovered who he was, and despite the heat of the room, his skin goosebumps as the ninth and tenth panels fall, leaving only the one he’s standing on.

_Is he truly willing to die over this?_

Before he can answer that question, the panel beneath his feet is replaced with empty air. Gravity rushes around him, dragging him down, and Obi-Wan falls with a shout.

Suddenly, something tight wraps around his left wrist, and his freefall comes to a jarring halt. Obi-Wan is hanging by his wrist from a cord. He follows the length of it up… and finds Bane leaning over the side of the platform, his hand extended downwards and the cord straining from his gauntlet.

Every curse word that Obi-Wan knows flies through his mind again, but it’s with a distinctly more cheerful tone as Bane begins to heft him back up with the help of Twazzi and Embo.

(Sing and Derrown remain standing to the side. Derrown, Obi-Wan understands after that whole hunting Parwans for a living comment, but Sing is just a terrible person.)

Eval is livid, his eyes straining from his skull as he shrieks. “HOW DARE YOU DEFY MORALO EVAL?!”

Bane isn’t intimidated in the slightest. “If you’re gonna kill him, do it like a _man_.”

A different, deeper voice buzzes through the intercom system. “You heard him, Eval,” Dooku says, as his face materializes on the wall where the targets had been. “Show us what you are really made of.”

A small section of the flamethrower floor reverts back to panels, and Moralo Eval’s shrieking turns to screaming as the wall behind him presses forward until he’s thrown to the ground far below. He lands flat on his face.

Beneath Obi-Wan, a single panel rises to meet his feet, and Obi-Wan disentangles himself from Bane’s cord and drops down onto it.

He waves a hand up at Bane. “Thanks,” he says. Bane just replies with a tip of his hat.

The panel beneath Obi-Wan lowers to the floor, and Obi-Wan stands up straight, fists held in front of his face. Eval pushes himself to his feet as well, teeth digging into his lower lip as he looks around at Dooku’s face on all four walls. He looks back at Obi-Wan, and pure rage narrows his pupils.

“Moralo Eval is going to enjoy this,” he snarls, and taps a command into his chrono. Part of the ceiling opens up, and four probe droids pour out. They begin to fire at Obi-Wan.

Obi-Wan waits until one of them is close enough to kick, and leans back to slam his foot into the droid. While the tiny droid is stunned, Obi-Wan grabs it and hurls it at one of the others.  The stunned droid hits the other, and the two careen into a third. The last one is still firing at Obi-Wan, so he does the most unlikely thing: he runs straight for it, and grabs it.

The probe droid jerks back, and begins to lift Obi-Wan through the air. It’s blaster isn’t able to reach Obi-Wan at this angle, so it tries to shake him off. It rises higher, jerking and shaking, but Obi-Wan’s grip is tight. He plants his boots against the wall -- right on Dooku’s face -- and runs along it to follow the movement of the droid. Soon, he’s the one guiding it. He pushes away from the wall, aims for the general direction of Eval, and lets the droid go.

The droid collides with Eval, who stumbles back and throws it into the wall, where it explodes in a shower of sparks. Obi-Wan lands just short of the flamethrowers, and straightens up once more.

“You’re gonna have to do better than that,” he says.

Eval rubs a dollop of  blood from his chin. “Hmm. You, my friend, have seen _nothing_ yet.” He says, and clicks a new button on his chrono.

Parts of the floor rise up into a maze-like structure, and Eval ducks inside. With a curse, Obi-Wan runs in after him. Within the maze, Eval is in his element. He jumps and climbs along the low walls like a Kowakian monkey-lizard, evading Obi-Wan at every turn. When they reach the other side of the maze, Eval slides out first and quickly pushes a button on his chrono. A wall slides up between them, trapping Obi-Wan inside, and part of the wall moves away to reveal a familiar sight.

 _I hate flamethrowers,_ Obi-Wan thinks as flames engulf the small space. He jumps against one wall, and uses the momentum to launch himself up and out of the small maze. He lands at the top of the other low wall and looks down to see Eval looking up at him, open-mouthed.

Obi-Wan jumps off of the wall and lands on top of Eval, bringing his fist smashing across Eval’s cheek. Eval goes down, and Obi-Wan grips his wrist.

“Let’s even the playing field,” he snaps, and slams Eval’s wrist against the floor. The chrono shatters and sparks, and the panels of the maze begin to rise and fall erratically, like the blocks on a sound mixing board.

Eval growls and brings one knee up between them, kicking Obi-Wan away. Obi-Wan flies back and lands on his back a few feet away. He quickly scrambles back to his feet.

All around them, Dooku looks down with glowing, golden eyes.

Eval throws himself forward, and swings  both of his fists together at Obi-Wan’s face. Obi-Wan jerks back: Eval’s fists catch him along the side of his helmet. He sees blotches of light and feels pain. Eval punches him again while he’s dazed, and picks him up by the shoulder and leg, lifting him high into the air and throwing him hard enough that Obi-Wan only barely manages to slide to a stop before hitting the flamethrowers.

He pushes himself to his feet and takes off his helmet, throwing it at Eval. The distraction works. Obi-Wan leans down and races forward, connecting with Eval’s middle and sending them both flying back. They come to a stop with Eval’s head just between two flamethrowers.

Obi-Wan tightens his thighs around Eval’s middle to hold him in place, and begins to throw punches. One, two, three. Again and again until his knuckles begin to ache and Eval’s head lolls. When Eval’s eyes roll into the back of his head, Obi-Wan grips him by the collar and delivers one last, hard blow that splits open two of his knuckles. Eval’s head falls back heavily, his neck thunking against the panels.

Obi-Wan puts his hands down, breathing heavily, and Dooku’s voice fills the room.

“Finish him, Hardeen.”

Below him, Eval gurgles, his eyes rolling back into place just long enough for him to level a look of complete terror at Hardeen. He doesn’t try to fight back anymore, remaining limp and shaking beneath Obi-Wan.

Obi-Wan doesn’t raise his fists. He won’t. He may have a cover to keep, but Dooku is no master of his.

Dooku’s voice rumbles around the room again as Obi-Wan stands up and moves away from Eval. “How disappointing,” Dooku growls.

Obi-Wan looks around the room until he finds his helmet, thankfully not roasting in the fire from the flamethrowers, and makes his way over to pick it up. “With all due respect,” he says. “I just want to do my job and get my money.”

“It is unfortunate that your leadership skills are so lacking,” Dooku’s voice is dripping with consternation as the platform holding the remaining bounty hunters lowers to the ground as well. Bane claps a hand on Obi-Wan’s shoulder. “Nevertheless, congratulations on surviving The Box. Tomorrow you will kidnap Chancellor Palpatine at the festival on Naboo. With the leader of the Republic as our hostage, we will demand the release of all Separatist prisoners. If our demand is not met, the Chancellor will be executed. Either way, you will help reshape the galaxy. But.” Dooku’s eyelids lower, and he looks upon each of the bounty hunters, lingering longest on Hardeen. “We only need five of you. Someone must die.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Some lines taken from the Clone Wars episode "The Box" (Season 4 Episode 17)  
> * _Ec hu ta:_ (Huttese) Shit. (Go ahead, try and tell me a dude raised until the age of nine on a planet where the major language was Huttese didn’t learn that as his first language. Try. He curses in it, dammit. Probably reverts back to it when he is really stressed, too.)  
>  * _Grosso pozzi nix strumpf?:_ (Kyuzo) There isn’t an exact translation floating around for this, but I like to assume it’s something along the lines of, “Maybe Parwans are immune to fire, too.”  
>  *The next chapter will be up Sunday-Monday next week, so stay tuned! (We'll actually see a bit of Serenus again, oh joy)


	18. The Box, Part 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Editing is like getting a handjob from Edward Scissorhands. I spent most of tonight crying in the corner shooting blood out of my ears, and watching my fingers curl in on themselves every time I reached for the keyboard.
> 
> I'm kidding. If I didn't enjoy reading my work over at least a _little_ bit, I wouldn't write so damn much.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hellllllooooooooooooooooo lovelies! How's your night? Good? Good.
> 
> We're getting to the end of 'The Box'. Exciting! Relish it while it lasts. After this, we really start veering into AU territory. _*rubs hands in delight*_
> 
> Enjoy~
> 
> -Pop
> 
> PS: The Beta had a family emergency to deal with, so I was the one that fixed this one up (gulp). Send the Beta some good thoughts if you can!

Nobody in the large room says a word.

A clear and distinct sense of danger fills the Force to bursting, and yet the room is quiet. None of the bounty hunters move, none of them make a sound.

Dooku allows the message to sink in with an impassive look on his face. “Move to the center of the room,” he orders, and all of them do as they are asked. Embo and Twazzi even lift Eval by the arms and half-carry, half-drag him to the middle of the room.

The sound of hydraulics hisses loudly in Obi-Wan’s ears, and as the floors descend, the lights in the panels go out, row by row. Just as their heads disappear beneath the floor, the room of their final challenge goes completely dark.

Fresh air slaps Obi-Wan in the face, cold and crisp, scouring them clean of the stench of smoke and fire as their platform hovers slowly to the ground.

Obi-Wan shares a look with Bane, who does nothing but lift off his hat and flick a bit of black soot from the leather. He doesn’t look perturbed at all.

_ I guess that means I have nothing to worry about, _ Obi-Wan thinks with crudely held-together hope.

The platform lands within a circle of magnaguards headed by Count Dooku, and the guards are quick to point their electrostaffs in the faces of the bounty hunters. Obi-Wan assumes Dooku wants them to raise their hands, but none of them so much as twitch.

“So how are we deciding who dies?” Sing finally asks Dooku, crossing her arms and regarding him with contempt. “If you suspect us to just start fighting, I hope you’re prepared to only have one bounty hunter left for this operation.”

That earns her a few hard glares, but Dooku only smiles a slick, fake smile and holds up his hands. The magnaguards lower their weapons as one and stand at attention. “I assure you that decision will not come lightly. All of you have shown remarkable prowess.”

“You could just let one of us leave then,” Obi-Wan says, and he places a hand on his hip when Dooku’s amber gaze turns to him. “Why not do that instead of murdering someone? Seems like too much effort when enough credits would keep any one of us quiet.”

Dooku’s mouth twists down into a disgusted scowl, a look that Obi-Wan is much more used to than Dooku’s forced friendliness. “Do not attempt to justify that which you do not fully understand, Hardeen.  I did not tell you about what this operation entails without reason. It was to make sure that each of you understands exactly why I cannot allow anyone to leave.” Dooku raises one eyebrow. “I could pay you plenty of credits, yes, but imagine what the Republic would pay for this information. Do not take me for a fool.”

_ Too late,  _ Obi-Wan thinks. Oh, well. Attempting to simply leave the planet and bring this information to the Jedi Order was worth a try, at least.

“We can’t leave. We can’t start the mission with too many people. Until you can come up with a decision, what the hells are we supposed to do?” Bane asks.

Obi-Wan would almost have called the movement Dooku makes a shrug, if the Count was capable of such a graceless movement.

_ “Relax,” _ he says slowly, with an air of almost amusement.

***

Obi-Wan doesn’t know where Eval is taken. All he knows is that one moment, two magnaguards are taking him from Embo and Twazzi, and the next he -- along with Dooku and all but a few of the magnaguards -- are gone.

Sing is the first one to step off of the platform, and when nothing happens to her, the rest of them follow suit. The white metal beneath their feet is replaced by smooth cobbles and wet grass.

Obi-Wan and Bane move off together to one side of the courtyard, far enough away from The Box that the thing isn’t floating over them like a hammer about to drop. They find two rows of tall hedges pressing up near one side of the estate, and stand between them.

Obi-Wan takes this chance to purge himself of stress. He concentrates inward, and allows himself to relax by increments, releasing his worries into the Force. The Box had been hell indeed, and he didn’t imagine that he’d forget it anytime soon, but it was only the beginning of the end of this drawn-out mission. Which Obi-Wan still needs to make sure that he is actually a part of.

Beside him, Bane has his box of toothpicks in his hand and already has one between his lips.

“Think he’ll kill one of us?” Obi-Wan asks, conversationally.

“He won’t kill us,” Bane says in answer, without a tinge of fear, and offers up  toothpick to Obi-Wan.

Obi-Wan finds himself taking it, and sticking the sliver of wood between his teeth. He uses his tongue to play around with it, but the thing is hardly relaxing. “Why do you say that?” he asks around it. “Don’t tell me you forgot ‘most disappointing’?”

Bane stashes his box of toothpicks back on his hat and gives Obi-Wan a glinty stare. “We were the best damn people in there. He’d be a fool to kill you just because you couldn’t kill Eval. Why was that, anyway? Not like ya like him.”

“Not in my job description.”

Bane snorts. “Good point.”

Obi-Wan pricks his tongue on one of the ends of the toothpick and winces quietly. “If we’re playing the motivation game, why in Mandalore’s asspiece did you save me from those flames?”

“‘Mandalore’s asspiece’,” Bane repeated with a confused smirk. “Do all Mandalorians curse like that?”

“Only me,” says Obi-Wan. “So?”

“So what? If Eval wanted to kill ya so bad, he should’a done it proper.” Bane makes a point of not looking Obi-Wan in the face. “Ya deserve better than that, Hardeen.”

“Aw, it’s almost like you care.”

Bane does look at him then, with a sneer that could curdle blue milk. “Don’t make me regret it.”

They stand quietly side-by-side, listening to the distant sounds of the native Serenno nightbirds. Obi-Wan tips his head up and looks at the dark night sky. This place really is beautiful, if you forget about the bloodthirsty Sith Lords for a few minutes.

Bane elbows him gently in the arm when part of the hedges quiver. From their right, Sing appears. She smiles sweetly at them both, showing teeth when she looks over at Obi-Wan.

“I’m not interrupting, am I?” she asks.

Bane pulls his toothpick out of his mouth. “Yeah. Go away.”

Sing doesn’t. Instead, she laughs.

“I won’t keep you two apart for too long, I promise,” she says with a tilt of her head. “I just need to borrow Cad for a minute.”

“What for?” Obi-Wan asks.

Sing’s face darkens ever so slightly. “What does it matter? I’m borrowing him for a little while. I’m sure you can handle being by yourself for a minute or two.”

_ Here? Probably not.  _ “Fine.”

“Why thank you,  _ so _ much.” Sing replies sarcastically as she loops her arm around one of Bane’s and leads him down the way she’d come. “Only a few minutes. Promise!” she says over her shoulder.

Obi-Wan nods, and crosses his arms over his chest at a sudden, chilly breeze. “Like I said,  _ fine. _ ”

***

Qui-Gon had never been a man with many worldly possessions.  As a Jedi, that attitude had been normal, but now, as a Sith, it was all manner of strange.

Sith are meant to desire. They are meant to want and take in excess. That attitude fit Jard perfectly -- he’d always been a man that enjoyed the finer things in life, even when he’d lived in the relative poverty of the Jedi. But with Qui-Gon… with Qui-Gon, nothing of the Sith seemed to fit him, yet he was, well and truly, one of them.

After leaving the bounty hunters and seeing to it that Eval wasn’t dead before releasing him back out with the rest of them, Jard makes his way to Qui-Gon’s quarters in the eastern wing of his estate. There’s the occasional holopad on a flat surface here and there, once or twice the faint, echoing growls of one of Qui-Gon’s many ‘pathetic lifeforms’ (some things never change), but aside from those few things, the rooms were barren and empty. Jard passes by Qui-Gon’s sleeping quarters -- bed made, nightstands spotless, outfits hanging neatly in the dark closets -- and continues deeper, until he’s at the entrance to Qui-Gon’s private meditation chamber.

Jard doesn’t knock before stepping into the cool, dark room. He announces himself through the Force instead, though Qui-Gon makes no effort to show that he senses Jard’s presence. Typical. He always has liked his melodrama.

Jard doesn’t say a word for some time, and simply leans against the doorframe and watches. Qui-Gon meditating is something to behold. It always has been.

Even within the Dark Side, the Living Force exists, and it wraps itself around his former apprentice like a mother swaddling a newborn. When he concentrates -- and Qui-Gon had learned to do that well -- it’s difficult even for Jard to properly see him, within the Force and without.

Faintly, Jard wonders if that’s why Sidious fears him. Because, unlike either of them, the Dark had chosen Qui-Gon.

“Are you quite finished being histrionic yet?”

Qui-Gon’s concentration goes lax, just for a moment, but it’s enough to break his meditation cycle completely. His head turns to the side, and in the dark Jard can just barely see the outline of Qui-Gon’s profile.

“How did the tests go? Is Rako Hardeen dead?”

Jard lets out a sigh and moves further into the room, flipping on a light as he does. The room is bathed in a dull, faint light that hardly illuminates anything at all. “No, he isn’t.” A faint frown touches Serenus’s face. “He did remarkably well, in fact, better than most of the drivel that was thrown in there.”

Qui-Gon hums in response, and turns back to the far-facing wall, which has a large window set from floor to ceiling. It’s a few moments longer before he’s on his feet and retrieving the tunic folded on the floor at his side. Jard catches a glimpse of arms decorated with dark tattoos as Qui-Gon pulls the charcoal-grey tunic over his arms and chest and ties the obi around his hips to hold the sides closed.

“Hardeen spared Eval,” continues Jard. “He had the chance to kill him, but failed to take it.”

Qui-Gon looks ready to murder something. “Is that so?” he snarls. “That’s surprising.”

“Indeed,” Jard replies. “It’s a wonder that a man like him managed to kill Obi-Wan Kenobi.”

The look Qui-Gon gives him is volcanic. Jard’s hands tighten behind his back. He does not fear Qui-Gon, this is true, but that doesn’t mean it’s wise to prod and provoke him like this.

“I apologize.” Jard says, curtly. “I know how much he meant to you.”

Qui-Gon’s gaze lowers, and he relaxes, breath by breath. “No, you don’t,” Qui-Gon says, softly. “But let me ask you something. If Hardeen did such a thing, why keep him for this mission?”

“As I said, despite that final failure, he was the best one in there.”

“Hm. And what does that mean exactly?” Qui-Gon asks.

Jard doesn’t lie in his answer. Qui-Gon deserves the truth. “It means that he may prove necessary for this operation’s success. I cannot allow you to kill him just yet.”

A strained silence fills the air between them, and Jard has the faintest of urges to reach for his lightsaber. He pushes that idiotic urge down. His former apprentice could never harm, even if he dared to try.

Qui-Gon stares him down with sunburst eyes, tipping his gaze down towards the distant courtyard through his window. “Jard,” he says. “We’re friends, are we not?”

“Yes, last time I checked.”

Qui-Gon nods, and his eyes are a poisonous, bright yellow that glow in the dim room like small stars. “Then be my friend, and let me kill that man now.”

***

When they’re far enough away that Cad knows Hardeen won’t hear them, he plants his feet firmly and pulls Sing to a halt. She still has that damned smile on her face.

“What’s this about, Aurra?” Cad asks.

Sing bites on her lip as if to keep from laughing and gently tugs at his arm. She pulls at him again. “Just keep walking, sweetheart. And start counting credits in your head.”

“Credits…” Bane frowns, something he usually doesn’t do when the word ‘credits’ is mentioned. “Alright, enough. Tell me now or I’m going back.”

Sing stops in her tracks, her fingers gripping tightly around Cad’s arm. “I swear, Bane, if you ruin this payment for me, I’ll kill you seven different ways.”

Cad relaxes in her grip, but doesn’t pull away. He doesn’t have a kriffing death wish.

_ “Aurra.” _ He says, letting the r’s roll a long time on his tongue. She likes it when he says her name like that. “Ya know me. I wouldn’t keep ya away from hard-earned credits.”

Sing’s face calms down a fraction, and she tilts her head playfully at Bane. “Oh, I know you wouldn’t,” she says, reaching up on hand to his face. She pulls the toothpick from his lips and slides it between her own. “Though don’t get too blubbery about Hardeen, please.  I know you like him, but I can’t stand that kind of emotional banthashit.”

Cad’s face doesn’t betray any kind of emotion. “What’d’ya mean?” he asks carefully.

Sing smiles, sharp white teeth gleaming around his toothpick. “Eval wanted some alone time with Hardeen. I decided to help.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *I dunno where Mandalore’s asspiece came from, but it is hands down one of my best ideas to date  
> *Yes, the line ‘ties the obi around his hips’ is kinda meant to be a joke, but it’s also an actual part of Serenus’s outfit so shut up, I can be serious, too. Super serious. Not everything is a sexual innuendo!  
> *As much as I love Aurra Sing, and I do I think she’s a very interesting character, I don’t deny that she is one _evil_ bitch.  
>  *Somewhere there exists an alternate take to the hedge scene wherein Obi-Wan and Bane make-out. I'm not kidding. If anyone wants to see it, lemme know.  
> *The next chapter will be next Sunday-Monday, as always!


	19. The Box, Part 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> SUUUUUUUPRIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIISE!!!! Early update is early. Happy Fourth, friendos.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FINALLY! THE END OF 'THE BOX' SECTION!!! Can I get some 'whoop whoops' ? (I'm assuming you just said Whoop Whoop! You better have.) But, first.
> 
> Oh boy, do I have some warnings for you guys! Play close attention.
> 
> There's attempted rape in this chapter. Hopefully I've done enough "Build up" that it isn't too much of a shocking, out-of-nowhere, why-the-fuck-is-this-here surprise. Hopefully. There's also a bit of gore. Not terrible, Silent Hill level stuff, but you might go _uuuughhhhhhhh_. Better that you have fair warning than not.
> 
> And that's about it! Enjoy the early chapter, peeps!
> 
> -Pop
> 
> PS: May the Fourth be with you all.
> 
> PSS: [Here's the Obibane deleted scene from last chapter. Double enjoy.](http://poplitealqueen.tumblr.com/post/160257682899/pulsion-deleted-scene-obibane-sexy-times)

Bane has been gone for around ten minutes when Obi-Wan senses a disturbance. Dark intent and fury boil in the Force, reawakening the stress that Obi-Wan had only just purged himself of. With a put-upon sigh, Obi-Wan moves away from the hedge a few short steps and spits out Bane’s toothpick. He takes off his helmet (he likes to see his peripheries, than you) and readies himself.

The presence in the Force isn’t Dooku or Serenus -- it’s too weak, but the intent to cause harm would make anyone stand out like a beacon to someone with even mild sensitivity. Obi-Wan strains his ears, but doesn’t hear anything. 

_ Lovely. They probably think they’re sneaking up on me. _

Obi-Wan silently counts down from three. _ 3...2...1. _

The bore of a blaster presses against the back of his neck, warm and smooth, accompanied by the growing sound of heavy breathing as whoever is pointing it gets more and more excited. Obi-Wan decides to play along, raises his hands and turning around slowly.

“Well, that was a quick recovery,” Obi-Wan says, as soon as the face of the person holding the blaster comes into view.

Eval’s teeth are tacky and stained with blood when he bares them at Obi-Wan, and bruises are already blossoming around his face. One eye is a bright, searing red, skin swollen around the eyeball.

“Don’t move,” Eval warns, moving the blaster ever so slightly, as if to make sure Obi-Wan knew it was there.

Obi-Wan’s eyes slide from the blaster to Eval, and neither of them move. Then, Obi-Wan quickly puts up his hand and knock the blaster out of the way with the back of his palm. A blaster bolt singes through the hedge behind Obi-Wan, dissipating against the wall of the estate. Before the blaster can fire another shot, Obi-Wan puts up his other arm to block Eval’s swing at him, and brings his elbow down on the tender spot between Eval’s upper and lower arm. Eval’s hand jerks open, and, as he plants one foot on Eval’s chest and kicks him away, Obi-Wan catches the blaster as it falls out of it.

Flicking on the safety with his thumb, Obi-Wan glances at Eval sprawled in the dirt in front of him. He’s already pushing himself up to his feet, his eyes wild and over-bright.

Obi-Wan flips the blaster in the air, catches it by the barrel and tosses it over the nearest hedge. It goes spinning out of sight behind the tall green plant.

“For a genius, that wasn’t very smart,” Obi-Wan says when he hears a tell-tale thunk on the other side of the hedge. He wonders how long it will take the guards to come running towards the sound of a blaster bolt as he levels a look at Eval, but it’s more tired than angry. Obi-Wan allows his usual inflection to slip into his voice, just for a moment. “Honestly, what did you think you would accomplish with this pure dramatic posturing?”

Eval’s face tightens in equal parts fury, defeat, and embarrassment. “Moralo Eval is going to  _ kill _ you,” he hisses out. “He’s going to make you beg. He’s going to make you  _ his _ .”

The implication behind that is obvious enough. And here he was, thinking that Eval had abandoned that particular interest in him somewhere between Orondia and having the Force-forsaken hell beaten out of him. Obi-Wan swallows down the sudden rage gathering in his throat and says, “I don’t belong to anybody.”

Something flies by Obi-Wan’s left ear. Something hot and burning. He only has enough time to duck before the second blast fires, skimming along the side of one leg.

_ A second blaster. Of course there's a second kriffing blaster. _

Obi-Wan is down on one knee when his other leg gives out. Beneath the burnt ruin of his trouser leg, his skin is an angry, bubbling red. Obi-Wan presses his hand over it and begins to push Force Healing into the wound. Dangerous to do so or not, he’s useless if he can’t walk.

Eval lumbers closer, the blaster aimed at Obi-Wan’s face. His eyes are manic and wide.

“Take off your pants,” he says with high-pitched glee.

Obi-Wan gives Eval one disgusted look, and wraps the Force around the blaster. With one tilt of his chin, the weapon goes flying out of a sight.

For a moment, Eval’s face is warped with shock. Then, little by little, something seems to click in his expression and with a snarl, Eval comes at Obi-Wan with his hands.

Eval goes for Obi-Wan’s arms first, pinning them together above his head as he uses his body weight to push Obi-Wan backwards onto the ground. Obi-Wan squirms, moving his body this way and that to try and throw Eval off. It doesn’t work, and just as Obi-Wan is gathering the Force together to knock Eval back, a closed fists connects with his temple. Obi-Wan’s vision blurs and swims, and when the world stops tilting, he finds his arms pinned beneath Eval’s knees.

Eval cackles, saliva strings connecting his teeth as one hand wraps around Obi-Wan’s throat and moves the other behind him to Obi-Wan’s belt.

Eval tugs Obi-Wan’s trousers down to his hips. Obi-Wan kicks and bucks, until Eval is forced to take his hand away from his torso and curl it into a fist. His second hit splits Obi-Wan’s bottom lip, and blood fills Obi-Wan’s mouth. The hand around his throat clenches as Eval’s eyes open into near-perfect circles.

“MORALO EVAL WILL SHOW THEM WHO IS WEAK!” his roars, pressing his hand harder and harder on Obi-Wan’s throat as the other slams into his face. Obi-Wan’s vision dulls around the edges, the dark spreading, and his chest burns for air. But Eval is so entranced with the blows he’s dealing that he doesn’t notice one of his knees sliding off of Obi-Wan’s arm.

Obi-Wan catches Eval’s fist the next time it comes down, and with his new leverage, grips Eval’s thumb and twists it back as far as he can. Eval lets out a shriek, and his other hand moves swiftly away from Obi-Wan’s throat to grip at his arm.

Taking in a lungful of cool night air, Obi-Wan twists his body hard. There’s a quick scuffle of arms and legs and teeth, and then Eval is beneath him.

Obi-Wan doesn’t hold back.

He doesn’t know how long he sits there slamming his fists into Eval’s face until all of his knuckles are split beneath the gloves, but at some point a different presence registers beside him. Obi-Wan’s blows slow to a halt, and he looks up into the golden eyes of the Count.

Dooku’s gaze shifts between them both, bored and uncaring. Then they land on the new blaster marks dotting his home, and darken.   
  
“Are you quite finished?” he demands.   
  
Obi-Wan pushes away from Eval, who lets out a whimper and hides his face. Stumbling to his feet, Obi-Wan rubs the back of his sleeve across his mouth, making his split lip sting, and pulls the back of his trousers up once more.   
  
There were far worse things that could be stinging right now.   
  
“Quite.” he mutters at Dooku in agreement.   
  
Dooku raises one eyebrow, and looks down at the quivering form of Eval still curled up on the ground when he lets out a particularly pitiful cry.   
  
“Pathetic.” he hisses out, before focusing back on Obi-Wan. “You will follow me.” he says, and, without further explanation, turns on his heel and stalks back towards his palace.   
  
Obi-Wan glances back at the intimidating shadow of the colossal Box, then down at its creator. Not nearly as intimidating at all.   
  
He picks up his helmet, and follows Dooku.   
  
Obi-Wan looks around himself warily. The hall they go down is dark, windowless, with only the hue of faint lights on the floor showing them their path. Obi-Wan can’t see where they’re going, but he can feel himself walking up a slope.   
  
“That back there, it didn’t mean anything,” Obi-Wan insists at Dooku’s back. “I can still work with the son of a mynock. He–”   
  
Dook holds up a hand.   
  
“Silence.” he says, the tone of his voice unreadable. “That is not what this is about.”   
  
A cold dread unfurls in Obi-Wan’s stomach as Dooku leads him through a doorway to the right. They enter into a large, spacious room. A huge, circular window with green mullions and tracery radiating out in a balanced design, takes up more than half of the far wall. Obi-Wan recognizes it immediately as the rose window adorning the main spire of Dooku’s mansion.

 

“I’m not the one you decided to kill, am I?” Obi-Wan asks.

 

Dooku doesn’t pause. “No,” he says, and Obi-Wan senses that it isn’t a lie. “I won’t be killing you.”   
  
Dooku climbs a  small cluster of steps directly before the window that leads up to a desk and pauses, hands clasped against the small of his back.   
  
Obi-Wan frowns at the back of his head. “Then what is this about?” he asks, carefully.   
  
The Count finally deigns to make eye contact with him, turning to face Obi-Wan fully, and the emerald light of the window lines him in green.   
  
“I’m afraid your services will no longer be necessary for this operation.”   
  
The ominous words are echoed by the sound of door sliding open where Obi-Wan can’t see.   
  
“What…”   
  
Obi-Wan takes a few harried steps back, sensing another powerful Dark Side user suddenly flood the Force with dark intent; sensing  _ him. _   
  
His back collides with something. Something tall and far too soft to be a droid.   
  
He is thrown forward by a powerful Force push before he even has time turn his head, and slams hard into the desk at the top of the steps. He falls to the ground in a gasping heap, desperately trying to catch his breath. He can’t use the Force here, he  _ can’t. _ His cover is still salvageable, he just has to remain calm and  _ think. _   
  
“What the kriff is this, Dooku? Another test?” Obi-Wan snaps, feigning infuriated ignorance as he staggers to his feet. “I already beat that fucking Box!”   
  
Dooku is the very picture of unimpressed indifference. “You are quite correct, Hardeen. However, this has digressed into a more… personal affair,” Dooku sneers, looking sidelong at Serenus, who has yet to utter a single word. Obi-Wan can’t help but follow the look, but he quickly drops his gaze when he is met with the pure, smoldering fury in Serenus’ venom-yellow gaze. “Lord Serenus, do as you see fit.”   
  
“Wait!” Obi-Wan swallows, nearly gagging on the swollen weight of the vocabulator droid lodged in his larynx. He has no weapons, he’s outnumbered, and even if he breaks his cover, uses the Force to flee, where can he go? That bloody junker outside couldn’t outrun a cold.   
  
He has to play this to the end. There may still be a chance.   
  
“Wait,” he repeats, a tad less frantically. “I don’t even know what I did to piss off your friend, but I have credits, I’ll pay you whatever it was worth.”   
  
Obi-Wan holds his hands up in a placating manner, chin ducked down, when he hears the familiar, sharp zap of a lightsaber being ignited. Heavy footsteps follow suit, climbing the steps.   
  
_ What else, what else, what else. _   
  
“Kriff! Keep the payment for this job if you need to,” Obi-Wan bellows. “I’m the best you have for this operation! For the love of fuck, you’re going to let personal banthashit get in the way of that? It’s unscrupulous.”   
  
“A fancy word, coming from the mouth of bounty hunter,” Dooku crinkles his nose up in distaste, turning away from Obi-Wan and making his way down the steps, past Serenus, “and the best, you say? You couldn’t even kill Moralo Eval. We have no room for weakness here.”   
  
The footsteps are louder, moving closer and closer, but Obi-Wan doesn’t dare look at the man making them.   
  
“Dooku!” he snarls instead, focusing his gaze down at the older Sith. The man looks pleased. “I was promised fair treatment here! At least give me a damn blaster.”   
  
Dooku’s eyes are glowing amber in the dull light “A blaster won’t do you any good.”   
  
This was it. The footsteps had stopped.Obi-Wan can feel an oppressive weight settling over him like a shadow over his soul. He doesn’t look away from Dooku. “But–!”   
  
“Stop talking.” Serenus’s voice is a low, dark rumble that seems to shake the very foundation of the estate itself. Obi-Wan cuts off his words with a snap and a swallow, and even Dooku stands as a silent sentinel, watching and waiting as Obi-Wan finally turns his attention to the other Sith Lord.   
  
Serenus doesn’t so much as offer him a smile, only a harsh, abrupt set of words. “I can sense your fear.”   
  
Obi-Wan isn’t prepared for the crushing weight of the Force to push him swiftly to his knees, slamming him hard into the ground. He is treated to an intimate view of Serenus’s dark boots.   
  
He continues to hold up his hands, groveling, much to his own disgust.   
  
“Please, I’m just here to get paid! I–”   
  
The heat of the lightsaber singes off the short hairs on the nape of his neck with its proximity, and Obi-Wan reacts on instinct.   
  
He pushes back, and plows his body into Serenus, throwing the taller man off balance and sending them both falling down the steps.   
  
Dooku sidesteps when they fall at his feet, and Obi-Wan is up first, making a mad dash for the door he had come through.   
  
He doesn’t get very far. Dooku grabs him fast in the Force, holding him in place.   
  
“Do try to keep up with your prey.” Dooku chides at Serenus.   
  
Serenus, barely winded, nods as he pushes himself back to standing. “I didn’t realise he would put up a fight.”   
  
“He killed Obi-Wan Kenobi,” Dooku reminds him, clinically. “One who doesn’t have any fight in them couldn’t pull off such a feat.”   
  
Pure, burning hatred assaults Obi-Wan’s senses, all of it targeted straight at him.   
  
“You aren’t wrong.” murmurs Serenus.   
  
And Obi-Wan is sure, more sure in that moment than he has been about anything concerning his former Master in a very long time.   
  
He is going to die.

  
***   
  
Serenus can count on one hand the number of times in the course of his life that he has allowed his emotions to overrule his common sense.   
  
When Xanatos had killed himself.   
  
When Tahl had died.   
  
When he had fought Maul, blocked out Obi-Wan from his mind, and nearly gotten himself killed in the process.   
  
In the first two instances, he had had no way to avenge them. And it had ached, bringing him down to the lowest points he can ever recall as a Jedi. Back when he had still been Qui-Gon Jinn, back when he had truly believed in the tenets set in place by the Jedi Order, it had seemed as if the Force itself was mocking him.   
  
In the third, it had been the foolish notion that he had been doing the right thing and, deeper, fear at the powerful connection growing between him and his apprentice. By that time, he had convinced himself that anything he held dear would shatter if it got too close to him – that the Force was simply testing him by placing Obi-Wan and the promise of such a beloved and needed connection before him. He had truly convinced himself that he was not meant for that, and had hurt Obi-Wan again and again in his desperate attempt to flee from it.   
  
He had been a fool.   
  
All three times had one thing in common: helplessness.   
  
Serenus does not feel so now.   
  
Obi-Wan’s murderer is in his grasp, and the near orgasmic joy is almost too much to bear. Part of him wants to snap Hardeen’s neck now, watch him choke on his own blood as the life fades out of him and into the Force.   
  
Another, far more sadistic and Sith-influenced side of him, wants to prolong Hardeen’s suffering. Refuse him the right of ever returning to the Force upon his death, using whatever Sith magics he needs to in order to keep his revenge alive for years to come.   
  
But as of right now, the Force wants the bounty hunter alive and intact. So Serenus settles.   
  
Hardeen struggles in his Force choke, feet swinging in the empty, green-tinted light as his hands grope at his throat.   
  
Serenus frowns, and continues to tighten his grip. Tighter and tighter, feeling every bone shift and muscle strain futily against the power in his hand and…   
  
And…   
  
He thinks he imagines it at first, but as he continues to squeeze, the feeling stays. An odd, abnormal weight. Something important. Something… insentient.   
  
Serenus’ eyes narrow, and steps forward to stand directly before the choking bounty hunter.   
  
“What is it?” Dooku asks.   
  
Serenus tilts his head, concentrating. “He has something in his throat.”   
  
Dislodging the object and guiding it up with the Force is simple. Serenus can feel the edges roll up Hardeen’s windpipe, tearing the soft walls of his throat as its pulled out. Hardeen is clutching at his neck, scraping, scratching, as the liquid dripping from his mouth thickens and congeals.   
  
Huge drops of blood-spotted spit run down his chin as the foreign object is pulled higher and higher. Serenus holds out a hand as Hardeen cranes his head forward, gasping and gagging, and a round, metallic device with arachnid-like legs forces its way past the outlaw’s teeth and lands in the Sith Lord’s palm.   
  
Serenus grabs the ball between his thumb and forefinger, and holds it up closer to the green-hued light. It glistens wetly, with spittle and droplets of blood and a few small clumps of pink flesh caught against the legs.   
  
Dooku comes up behind him, curious. “Let me see it.”   
  
Serenus hands the round device to Dooku, who fishes out a handkerchief from his pocket to hold it. He flicks the small chunks of the flesh away with miniscule pushes of the Force, never once actually touching it.   
  
After a moment, he hands it back to Serenus. “It appears to be a vocal emulator.” he says, and points. “The activation button is right there.”   
  
“A vocal emulator…?” Serenus turns it around once, twice, before clicking it on. Recordings of Rako Hardeen’s gravelly voice begin to play, slightly garbled, and he sounds quite exasperated indeed. Serenus listens to it quietly up until the outlaw shouts “… _ punished for something I didn’t do!” _ before shutting it off and letting his eyes flick back to Hardeen. The man is still struggling for breath in his grasp, eyes watering and red, yet he continues to make a point of not looking at Serenus directly.   
  
“Now, isn’t  _ that _ interesting.” Serenus says, and for the first time since returning to Serenno, he smiles. “This isn’t who we’ve been led to believe.”   
  
“This isn’t Rako Hardeen?” Dooku sounds more furious than surprised, his eyes beginning to glow a bright gold in the dark room. “Eval will pay dearly for his treachery.”   
  
“I sense that Eval didn’t know, and neither did the Duros. But to be safe, we should kill them both after the mission is complete,” Serenus is only smiles, tilting his head up at the outlaw. Eyes meet his for a split second, pupils constricted in a sea of grey-blue, before darting away, but it’s too late. Serenus would be able to recognize those eyes anywhere. It’s a wonder he hadn’t sooner.   
  
“No, this isn’t Hardeen nor some other bounty hunter.” Serenus continues, reaching up to brush the back of his knuckles against the man’s cheek. He sends a powerful sleep suggestion into the outlaw’s  mind, and those familiar eyes roll back and “Hardeen” goes limp. Serenus catches him as he falls forward, pressing him close and feeling that achingly familiar sense of holding the man that he loves.   
  
How in the stars had he not noticed sooner? The more he turns the notion over in his mind, the more it makes sense. The Force sings with the rightness of the realization.   
  
“It’s Obi-Wan.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *There will be another chapter up on Sunday-Monday. Damnit, I have a schedule to keep!  
> * _*furiously flips off 'The Box' section*_ **BYE BITCH.**  
>  *Now we're officially drifting into the last arc of this fic. How exciting.  
> * God that reveal section was fun to write. MMM! Sweet, sweet payoff!!


	20. Crisis, Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ♪Na-na-nananananana Na-na-nanananana OBI-WAN HANGING OUT WITH SITH♪
> 
> Welcome to proper canon divergence, munchkins!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alrighty, so we are now getting into the land of non-con/dub-con touching. Ye have been warned. There's also a scene with a needle in this chapter, and I for one am fucking terrified of needles, so I know how nice it is to know when to expect them.
> 
> Aside from that? Bit of torture. Bit of other stuff I don't want to spoil. Enjoy!
> 
> -Pop
> 
> Beta read by the lovely **Torliway.**
> 
> PS: [ All the covers for this fic have been posted, so give it a looksee if you like.](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6974842/chapters/15896011)

Obi-Wan is an old hat at being held for torture.  
  
While his time on Rattatak was something he would sooner like to forget, he is thankful for it now. It taught him a valuable lesson when it came to being held by Sith: never grow complacent.   
  
The Jedi teach that the best thing one can do if imprisoned is to put their mind as far away as possible from their present situation as they can; that the best defense is to go to a safe place in their mind, and stay there for as long as necessary.   
  
Obi-Wan has never adhered to this particular principle.   
  
The technique is perfectly sound when it comes only to physical captivity, but with the Sith, with any other being capable of reading minds, it is an entirely different battle. To go to one’s “happy place” while anywhere near the Sith is to welcome them into it as well. From there, it is a simple thing for them to take that place of strength, and twist it into one of pain. Obi-Wan makes a mental note to thank Ventress if  he sees her again; she had been the one to firmly convince him once and for all that it was best to stay in the moment while imprisoned by fellow Force sensitives.   
  
Which is ironic, considering who it is he is currently a captive of.   
  
Obi-Wan isn’t sure when exactly he awoke, suspended a meter in the air within a Geonosian containment field. He’s rotating slowly with his arms and legs locked into magnetic cuffs; he must have been unconscious for a decent amount of time to be put into it, and just as he begins regain his bearings the door to his cell – a windowless, dark room with grates for flooring and no adornment to speak of save for the disk-like generators of the containment field bolted to the ceiling and floor directly above and below him – slides open, and Count Dooku strides in, followed closely by…   
  
“Count.” Obi-Wan says  immediately, his voice hoarse and cracked from disuse, and the fact that his throat is still raw from having the vocal emulator wrenched so unceremoniously out of it.   
  
“Obi-Wan.” Dooku replies, as Serenus locks eyes with Obi-Wan before moving to stand in the back of the cell, arms crossed.   
  
Obi-Wan does his utmost to ignore him. He had checked as soon as he had awoken – Master Yon’s mental constructs are still holding, he has nothing to worry about (yet), but Serenus looks so Force-damned smug, it turns Obi-Wan’s stomach. He focuses his attention on Dooku as the older man shrugs his cloak away from his arms.   
  
“I would bow to show my respect at being held hostage by such an esteemed member of the Separatist Alliance,” Obi-Wan says, pleasantly, “ but as you can see, I’m a bit held up at the moment.”   
  
Dooku bristles at Obi-Wan’s mocking attitude, which is exactly what Obi-Wan had hoped would happen. A little laugh rattles in his chest.   
  
“Honestly, Count, with as slovenly an operation as you’re running here, I’m shocked I even had to hide my identity to infiltrate it.”   
  
“Enough.” Dooku growls, and holds up his hand. Obi-Wan’s suspended rotation comes to a stop, making his head swim. He is proud to say he doesn’t lose his cocksure smirk in the process. “You will tell me how much you know,” says Dooku.   
  
Obi-Wan feels tendrils of the Force pressing against his shields, looking for a way in. Trying to worm their way into his mind, and convince him to speak.   
  
“I do hate to gainsay you, I do. But no. I won’t.”   
  
Dooku’s bares his teeth, and he presses harder within the Force. “You will tell me.” When his attempts prove fruitless once more, he flexes his fingers wide.   
  
Lightning dances across Obi-Wan’s skin, and Obi-Wan lets out a harsh groan. He won’t give Dooku the satisfaction of a scream. The torrent continues, lapsing for a second only to hit him again with full strength. When it finally cuts off, Obi-Wan can smell burnt hair and clothing. His body jerks of its own accord as remaining jolts of electricity snap across his nerve endings.   
  
“This can cease, my young friend,” Dooku says, a hint of mild kindness in his voice that Obi-Wan knows is as real as the false Rako Hardeen face that he still wears. “All you need to do is tell me what I wish to know.”   
  
Obi-Wan mumbles something.   
  
Dooku comes to stand directly before him, his long nose nearly pressed against the blue stasis field. The man is taller even than Serenus, and easily looks Obi-Wan’s suspended form in the eye.   
  
“Speak up.”   
  
Obi-Wan squints at Dooku through pain-slitted eyes. “I said… do you truly need me to explain exactly how you royally kriffed this up? Very well, it began with –”   
  
Obi-Wan’s breath catches in his throat as another volley of electricity hits him.   
  
“I did not come here to palaver. How much do you know?” Dooku demands.   
  
Obi-Wan gives him a terrific glare, even suspended in the air by a stasis field and utterly at the mercy of an irate Sith Lord, he will not break from as standard a torture as Force Lightning.   
  
“Enough for you to call off this imbecilic operation.” he replies softly. “I know everything.”   
  
Serenus, who had kept uncharacteristically quiet until this point, suddenly speaks. His voice floats over from the corner of the room as he calmly adds, “He’s lying.”   
  
Dooku’s eyes flit from Obi-Wan to Serenus, softening just a fraction. There is still a sharp tremor of frustration in his voice, however.   
  
“And you are aware of this how, exactly?” his gaze returns to its original place, and Obi-Wan can feel brushes of mental energy pressing again against the shields that Master Yon had erected in his mind, pushing and pressing as they looked for a break that will allow them entrance into his thoughts.   
  
Dooku ceases his efforts with a pristine snarl. “With those constructs in place, not even I can see his mind.”   
  
Serenus shrugs and walks over, smirking up at Obi-Wan knowingly.   
  
“He was my Padawan once, Jard. I can tell when he isn’t being honest.”

“Would that I could boast the same,” Dooku says. “You’re sure of this?”

Obi-Wan can feel Serenus attempting to enter his mind, traveling along the paths of a broken bond that ends too soon. Unlike Dooku, he doesn’t push. “Yes, I am.”

“Then the operation will continue on schedule, then.” Dooku turns halfway away from Obi-Wan, focusing his attention on Serenus. “Would you care to accompany me?”

Serenus doesn’t look away from Obi-Wan once while he speaks. “No, I think I’ll remain here.”

Dooku slides a steely gaze up to Obi-Wan, a curt frown puckering his lips.

“Very well, suit yourself.”

Dooku steps away from the stasis field, re-initiates the mechanism that causes it to rotate once more, and heads towards the cell door.

Obi-Wan jerks forward in his restraints.

“You are making a grave error, Count,” he says, straining to look over his shoulder as the rotation forces him to face away from Dooku.

Dooku stops in the open door, turning his head slightly over his left shoulder.

“Try not to make too much of a mess, Qui-Gon,” he says.

The door slides shut behind him with a swift, mechanical hiss.

***

Once alone, Serenus clicks his tongue as he follows Obi-Wan’s revolving body.

“Not even a greeting? I swear I taught you better than that.”

“Qui-Gon Jinn did.” Obi-Wan doesn’t bother to keep the contempt out of his voice, though he does force it to remain as level as it can. “You aren’t him.”

A switch is flipped or some such thing, and Obi-Wan’s rotation comes to an abrupt halt directly before Serenus. It takes a moment for his vision to stop leaning side-to-side, and as soon as it does Obi-Wan is treated to an almost playful look from the Sith Lord.

Serenus tilts his head like a bird, yellow eyes standing starkly against the faint blue light of the containment field.

“Think what you will, but at least I still resemble him.” Serenus’ eyes narrow. “I don’t much care for this new face you’ve adopted, Obi-Wan.”

Obi-Wan smiles grimly. “I should consider keeping it then.”

Serenus smiles back, and his hand lowers towards a small tray next to the stasis field. On it are the usual torture implements, set out in plain sight to frighten whoever it is they’ll be used upon. Obi-Wan isn’t fazed by it, until Serenus picks up a particular tool: an uncapped hypodermic needle.

“You know,” Serenus says as taps the syringe to clear it of air bubbles, “What the Council used on you isn’t something new. It’s been used for quite a long time, in fact.” Serenus’s free hand taps against the control panel of the stasis field, shutting it down. Gravity grips Obi-Wan tight, tugging painfully at the restraints around his ankles and legs as it pulls him down.

Serenus steps halfway onto the platform, close enough now that Obi-Wan can feel his warm breath against his head. With one hand, Serenus lifts Obi-Wan’s chin up.

“They even used it on Jard once. I’m told it wasn’t a very pleasant experience, but he managed to remember most of the instructions to create the reversal serum,” Serenus continues, his excitement buzzing in the Force around them. “I can’t wait to see _you_ again, Obi-Wan.”

Obi-Wan jerks back from his hold. “So you prefer to kill me when I look like myself, is that it?” he asks.

“Nonsense. You only get this waspish when you’re afraid.” Serenus moves his hand down to Obi-Wan’s chest to tugs the vest open down to Obi-Wan’s collarbone. He carefully pushes Obi-Wan’s head to the side, jutting out the curve of his neck, and the a tight hold of the Force keeps Obi-Wan in the uncomfortable position. "You have nothing to fear from me."

Obi-Wan shudders when Serenus wraps one large hand lightly around his throat, running a thumb up and down the length of his carotid, while with the other he produces the wicked-looking implement. “There’s no need to be scared, Obi-Wan. I’ll make sure to be gentle.”

Obi-Wan jerks, which in his present situation amounts to little more than a rather violent twitch. The cuffs around his ankles and wrists spark warningly at the attempt at movement, and Obi-Wan feels an even heavier weight lock his body into place.

“Hold still.” Serenus orders softly, accompanying his words with a slight squeeze of the Force wrapped around Obi-Wan. “I don’t believe either of us wishes me to miss.”

Serenus plunges the syringe into the vulnerable curve of Obi-Wan’s neck. The needle encounters the resiliency of his skin, overpowers it, and slides in deep. Slowly, carefully, Serenus depresses the plunger and shoots the clear fluid into the throbbing artery.

Obi-Wan’s head jerks back as the bones beneath his skin begin to shift and writhe. His hands twitch in their confines as the familiar, unsettling sensation of his face melting off the bone passes over him. Obi-Wan tastes a burst of salt on his lips as his nose cracks and re-cracks, sending out a flood of fresh blood, before setting itself straight.

When his transformation is done, Serenus retracts the needle. Gleaming metals pulls out and a small trail of red follows in its wake.

Serenus takes Obi-Wan’s face in one hand, turning it this way and that.

“You haven’t aged a day,” he points out pleasantly, pressing his broad thumb into the dimple on Obi-Wan’s bare chin.

Obi-Wan knows that isn’t completely true. Looking into the ‘fresher mirror each morning had shown him each new wrinkle on his face as the years, and the war, had continued on. He still remembers the day he’d discovered crow’s feet on the sides of his eyes.

“Is that supposed to be a compliment?” Obi-Wan asks, his numb mouth only managing to slur out a jumbled mess of words.

Without a word, and with a small, content smile, Serenus leans in to brush his lips across Obi-Wan’s brow, before bending his head and stopping the red rill slipping down Obi-Wan’s throat with his tongue.

Obi-Wan is caught unawares by the phantom taste of metallic salt dissolving in _his_ mouth. This close, this _near,_ their minds slot together like pieces of a puzzle, with or without their old training bond.

If anything, this is deeper. More intimate.Something that even Master Yon’s shields cannot block completely.  A lifebond if ever there was one. Not even Toba Yon’s shields can completely block that.

Obi-Wan shores up his mental defenses as best he can, pressing Serenus’s mind far enough away that they actually feel like two separate beings once more.

“Lower those shields.”

Obi-Wan snorts, even as fear tingles down his spine and into his fingers.

“Why should I, if you can tell what I’m thinking simply by my tone of voice?” he asks, impudently.

Serenus’s eyelids lower patiently.

“Obi-Wan.” And there it is again. That stern, gentle voice from Obi-Wan’s Learner days, which even now rolls his stomach into knots and makes him feel like as though he has just disappointed someone he cares for deeply.  

Obi-Wan drops his gaze, but it isn’t very long before Serenus tilts his face up with one finger hooked beneath his chin, forcing their eyes to meet once more. None of Dooku’s ferocious frustration is in that soft gaze. In fact, he almost looks proud.

“Do not force me to break them.”

Obi-Wan stares into Serenus’s golden eyes, attempting to showcase his feelings about that without a single word. The irises are ringed with the barest hint of red.

“So this is going to be like Toydaria again?” He asks, and feels a sadistic sort of pleasure in the way Serenus’s calm breaks, just for a moment before it’s back in place. “You may as well keep the promise you made back then, and kill me.”

The walls around his mind are tested once more, careful and sly, sliding along them in search for the tiniest crack. They’re peeling back, layer by layer, under the constant searching. Obi-Wan can feel it like a headache building in the back of his head. _I don’t even want to think about Master Yon,_ he thinks.

“I never wanted to kill you, Obi-Wan,” Serenus says, pulling Obi-Wan back to their conversation with the tone of his words.

“That isn’t what you said the last time we met,” Obi-Wan counters, but the words fall short. He doesn’t like the look Serenus is giving him, doesn’t like the feeling of sorrow filling the Force around them.

 _He means it,_ part of him says, while the other forces the thought down and away. _Just because he doesn’t want to kill you doesn’t mean he won’t hurt you. You know that._

Obi-Wan closes his eyes and continues to shore up his shields, when suddenly Serenus’s pushing and prodding and searching stops. He snaps his eyes open and stares at him, wide-eyed.

“How about a compromise?” Serenus asks, his voice neutral. “I shall leave your shields and our bond be, and in exchange you allow me to connect us in a different fashion.”

Obi-Wan doesn’t have the words to express his sentiment at first, so he settles for a hard glare. Serenus returns it with as neutral a look as Qui-Gon had ever given Obi-Wan at his calmest moments.

“If you mean sex,” Obi-Wan finally says, flatly. “I do believe we’ve gone above and beyond that particular kind of connection ages ago.”

That awards him a laugh. A deep, rich, satisfied sound.

“I do not mean that,” Serenus corrects him, moving closer, a strange look taking over his features. “I speak of something a bit more… permanent.”

Obi-Wan keeps their eyes locked, even as the Sith Lord is almost completely atop him. “Will it be a detriment to the Republic?”

“Obi-Wan. I’m not quite so underhanded as that.” Serenus stares right back, gaze intense and lips twisted in satisfaction, before his eyes drop and he brings one hands up to trace two fingers delicately over Obi-Wan’s lips.   

 _No, then. Hopefully._ “What is it, then, exactly?” Obi-Wan demands, jerking his head as far back as the paralyzing electrical field will allow.

Serenus looks up at him again, the odd expression gone and replaced with something purely predatory. Obi-Wan feels like he is being devoured by that gaze alone. ”Consider it a gift.”

Obi-Wan doesn’t. “And if I refuse?” he asks, hands tensing in the glowing manacles above his head.

“Then we go back to removing those shields.” Serenus gives him a stark, humorless look, golden eyes widening just a bit. “And I would rather not put you through the prolonged pain of that.”

* * *

“For Force _fucking_ sakes, let me see them!“ 

  
Toba is one step away from breaking the Temple guard’s mind AND arm, when suddenly the silent sentinel finally seems to get the severity of the bloody situation. They move away from the door to the Council Chambers.   
  
Toba doesn’t realize it’s only because Council Member Gallia has come up behind him until he feels a hand on his back.   
  
The Tholothian Jedi gives him a gentle, negotiator’s smile, and Toba returns it with a weary frown.   
  
“Master Yon, are you well?”   
  
“No, Master Gallia, I am not.” Toba looks down at her, just short of pleading (he would never stoop so low) and continues on at a rapid, high-pitched pace. “I must speak with the Council, but this –” Toba gestures furiously towards the guard –”this faceless _buffoon_ refuses me entry.”   
  
“The Council is in a meeting right now, Toba. Perhaps if you came back–”   
  
“This is more important than one sodding meeting where nothing gets done!” Toba squawks, eyes bulging on their stalks. “A fellow Jedi’s life hangs in the balance, and I must speak with the Council now!”   
  
Master Gallia listened to his ravings with an arbitrator’s calm, but the moment the words “fellow Jedi” had slipped past Toba’s lips, her dark blue eyes hardened. She grasps Toba’s thin arm, and leans in close so that none of the various passerby will hear them.   
  
“Is it about Obi-Wan?”   
  
“Yes.” Toba lets out a sigh of relief along with the word, because the sharp look in the younger Master’s eyes meant that, finally, he was getting somewhere.   
  
She got him into the Council room not a moment later.   
  
Once within, Toba Yon wastes no time in getting to the point.   
  
“This concerns Master Kenobi,” Toba jerks at the center of the ring of chairs as a searing pain seems about to split his skull. “And before you ask, yes, he’s still alive, though he’s in dire straits. I believe he’s been caught.”   
  
Soothing mental voices breeze across him from around the room, and it’s enough, at least for a moment, to allow Toba to actually think.   
  
He hides his hands in his sleeves to keep anyone else from seeing their shaking.   
  
“I apologize for interrupting your meeting regarding Naboo, and for rudely barging in. But the shields I have put in place in Master Kenobi’s mind are being deconstructed, one by one.”   
  
“Forcefully?” One Master asks. Toba’s head is throbbing too much for him to pinpoint exactly who.   
  
The Gungan’s mustache quivers, “No.” He says, to various levels of surprise. “Pardon my blunt words, Masters, but if Master Kenobi’s shields were being broken against his will, I would have been reduced to a slobbering, mindless lump hours ago. Perhaps even dead, if I was so lucky.” Toba’s eyes lower. “The young fool  knows that. He’s allowing them to be taken down so that I won’t be killed, but he’s extending the process.”   
  
“If it is not being done forcefully,” another Master pipes up. Possibly Master Ti, though Toba couldn’t tell. All those damnable holograms looked the same to his tired eyes. “Then will that not allow for a longer time to come to a decision? Master Kenobi cannot be in immediate danger if he is the one controlling how quickly the shields are being taken down.”   
  
“You do not understand the severity of the situation,” Toba snaps, straightening up to his full seven feet. “Without even a few of my shields in place, or the failsafe I included should they be forcibly broken, Master Kenobi’s mind will be all but unprotected.”   
  
“He has shields of his own. He isn’t some untrained initiate.” It was definitely Master Windu who said this, leaning forward in his seat with his fingers tented beneath his chin.   
  
“You are quite right, but against the former Jedi Jinn?” Toba’s voice lowers to barely about a whisper.

A hush descends on the room. Master Windu is the first to speak, his words tight and short. “How do you know it’s Serenus?”

Toba gives him a look and seriously considers asking him how he became Head of the Council. “Do not insult me, Master Windu. My life’s work revolves around the making and breaking of Force bonds. I can tell when someone is trying to open one that I’ve closed.”

Master Windu’s lips press together into a thin line. “Opening an old bond isn’t possible. It’s gone.”

Toba sighs. “Mace, it wasn’t so long ago that I helped you to sever the bond with your own former apprentice when she fell. Do you remember what I told you? Even being near her could prove unsafe, and neither one of you was actively even trying to reinstate your bond.  
  
"The fact of the matter is, Jinn is attempting to create _another_ bond. With how close those two once were, it won’t take much effort if Master Kenobi refuses to put up resistance. And if that were to happen, there is no telling what he will be able to do.” Toba’s eyes widen in determination. “He requires our assistance. We all allowed him to dive into this situation, and I for one have a hard enough time sleeping a full cycle without the weight of yet another Fallen Jedi on my shoulders.”

“What do you suggest we do?” Master Windu asks. “We don’t even know where he is. The only lead we have is the Festival of Light on Naboo.”

_Right, the Supreme Chancellor still wishes to kriff everything up with his obtuseness._

“If we’re lucky, which I doubt most profusely,” Toba says. “He will be there. If not, well, to put it as obvious as possible, if we don’t find him, he’s karked.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Fucking FINALLY we have Obi-Wan's sexy face back. _*folds hands together*_ Bless. And unlike the show, his beard won't magically burst out of his face in the next five minutes. You might be kind of sad about that. I'm not. Because now I get to think about baby-faced!Obi-Wan. Ah. Yessss.  
>  *The beard will eventually come back ofc. I'm not that cruel.  
> *Next chapter should be up next Mondayish!


	21. Crisis, Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oh, look. Sex.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _*plops self down*_ With classes officially done, I'm tempted to start posting twice a week. I still don't know, but hey the idea is out there. Could happen, couldn't happen. Kinda just... eh, depends. Whatever the case, Mondayish updates will continue regardless.
> 
> Anyways, onto warnings! Dubcon dubcon dubcon. Dubcon sex, dubcon with tattooing, just a lot of a dubcon. It's not full-on noncon, but it isn't exactly super mchealthy everyone is 100% cool with this, neither. I mean, I suppose those of you that have stuck around long enough kinda assumed that would happen, so. Yep. Dubcon. This is what happens when you lifebond with a Sith that's a few slices short of an extra large pepperoni pizza.
> 
> Hope you enjoy.
> 
> -Pop
> 
> PS: Beta-read by **torliway**

Master Windu’s voice is clipped and firm over the commlink.

“Obi-Wan may have been captured,” he says, and before Anakin can respond, he continues. “Our transport for Naboo leaves at 0600 hours.” With that, the links beeps closed, and Anakin is left staring dumbstruck at the small device in his hand.

It takes a few moments for his mind to register what he’s just heard, and then a few moments longer for it to really sink in. He quietly pockets the comm, letting none of his feelings slip out into the Force.

 _At least he’s keeping you updated,_ Anakin thinks angrily.

***

The transport the Jedi are expected to go to Naboo in also happens to be the same one that the Chancellor takes. Anakin isn’t sure whether to be grateful or apprehensive about that, but it’s nice to know that he’ll be near the Chancellor if trouble occurs, at least.

Palpatine doesn’t seem to think so as he straps himself into the seat closest to Anakin.

“Honestly,” he says. “If the Jedi insist on this level of security before I’ve even set foot on Naboo, I dare not think about how it will be once we make planetfall.” The Chancellor gives Anakin the look of someone long put-upon. “In my opinion, all of this trouble seems wholly unnecessary.”

“Think what you like, Chancellor, but it’s for your own safety.” Master Windu takes a seat on the opposite side of the shuttle, his face set into a weary frown. The Chancellor lets out a soft sigh and subtly rolls his eyes where only Anakin can see.

“Indeed,” the Chancellor says.

Ahsoka is the last one onto the ship, climbing aboard with the contingent of clone troopers that will be accompanying them on this mission. She takes the seat next to Anakin that isn’t occupied by the Chancellor.

 _So, what are you gonna do first when you see Obi-Wan again?_ Ahsoka asks through their bond as she clicks her seat belt into place. _Hit him or hug him?_

The ship rumbles to life beneath them, and a familiar pull in Anakin’s gut tells him that they’re now airborne.

He smiles at Ahsoka, and does his best to squash the nervous feeling tugging at the back of his mind. The Force is whispering of danger, but Anakin doesn’t know if it’s true or simply his own worries projecting themselves again.

_Obi-Wan may have been captured._

Master Windu’s words continue to play on repeat in his mind, over and over and over again. Dwelling on them makes it feel like Anakin’s chest is shrinking, squeezing his heart and lungs until there is nothing left at all.

A cold hand suddenly slides atop his, and pats it once. Anakin looks over to his other side, and the Chancellor smiles at him, like he knows all of Anakin’s worries and wants to show that they mean nothing. That they’re useless and trivial. Anakin turns back to Ahsoka.

“Hit,” Anakin says aloud. “Definitely hit.”

* * *

The restraints around Obi-Wan’s wrists and ankles click open all at once, and the sudden return of gravity sends him falling heavily against Serenus. He’s stopped by strong hands around his arms, and a thick chest in front of him.

Obi-Wan moves away from Serenus, and wobbles as he steps off of the platform. The sensation of pins and needles stab into his numb feet as he walks a few steps, bringing life back to them. It’s a slow, painful process.

Serenus steps off of the platform as well just as Obi-Wan brings a hand to the small puncture wound at his neck. This concoction had indeed felt different from the one he’d been given in the Temple, and he doesn't care to think about what lasting effects that might have.

“We didn’t have the exact ingredients needed for a proper serum,” says Serenus with a light touch of his fingers against the hand at Obi-Wan’s throat. “I doubt anything significant will come of it.”

Obi-Wan moves himself just out of reach of Serenus’s fingers, and looks around the room. There isn’t much he missed while inside the containment field; it’s more or less a standard torture chamber, and not an altogether frightening one at that. Even the one on Nal Hutta had been more intimidating.

A hand ghosts down the open front of Obi-Wan’s vest, and he jerks back in response. Serenus had moved closer to him, and he hadn’t noticed. Not until the man had been close enough to touch him again.

Dread settles in Obi-Wan’s stomach. No, it isn’t that he didn’t notice. He is fully aware of Serenus, but he senses no danger. That in and of itself is dangerous in a situation like this. _I can’t let my guard down, not around him,_ Obi-Wan thinks.

He builds up his mental shields, and Serenus notices. His eyes widen slightly and he takes a step forward. In response, Obi-Wan takes a step back.

“Are you going to tell me what that ‘gift’ of yours is now?” Obi-Wan asks as he takes another step back. Serenus follows, and few dim lights of the cell cast strange shadows on his face. Without the blue glow of the containment field, his eyes are the brightest things in the room. Golden, nearly white, peering as deeply as they can into Obi-Wan’s.

He remembers the first time he saw those eyes; remembers the first time he saw them roll back into Serenus’s head in ecstasy; remembers tears and pain in them. Remembers--

No.

Obi-Wan takes two more steps back, and he collides with a wall. He remains there, staring up at Serenus. Serenus stares back, and Obi-Wan finds himself looking over the features of Serenus’s face, focusing on his lips, on the taste of…

_No._

“I asked you what this gift is,” Obi-Wan says, surprised at how husky his voice sounds. “If this is some manner of trick, know that I will defend myself.”

Serenus comes to a stop a step away from Obi-Wan, close enough that he could have caged him in with his arms if he so chose. Yet his arms don’t move from his sides.

“I’ve missed you, Obi-Wan.”

The words are whisper-soft, but Obi-Wan hears them as clearly as a shout. Along with them comes a brush of the Force along his shields, but it doesn’t press or push. It gently skids along the boundaries like a breeze, hardly there. It succeeds where the pushes do not. It finds a crack.

A temporary link fizzles into existence between them, new and uncertain, a thin string linking them together. So small, yet so strong, that Obi-Wan lets out a soft gasp as it snaps into place. He begins to fight against it before it has even fully formed, but the damage is done. In that moment, in that bare blink of a moment, he doesn’t see Serenus. He sees Qui-Gon.

_I missed you, too._

Obi-Wan surges forward first, gripping Qui-Gon by the tunic hard enough that the older man has to steady himself with one hand against the wall behind Obi-Wan. One strong tug brings Qui-Gon’s face down to Obi-Wan’s level, and he captures his mouth in a frantic kiss.

It isn’t a long kiss. At least, that’s what Obi-Wan tells himself as Serenus’s mouth opens up to his, deepening it more and more. Serenus’s free hand reaches up to wrap around the side of Obi-Wan’s jaw, angling him just so that their bodies press together as much as their mouths.

Serenus watches Obi-Wan’s expression as he digs his tongue into Obi-Wan’s mouth, pushing him harder against the wall of the cell.

His grip is strong. The hand on the wall travels to the back of Obi-Wan’s head and grasps the sensitive skin ther. A couple of deep swipes of his tongue; the way the hand clutching at his neck slackens and begins to caress; the soft, familiar presence in his mind growing stronger and louder, and Obi-Wan gives in.

He’s swept up, suffocated, drowned, ignited and kriffing _torn apart_ by the lips upon his own; by the hands no longer holding him in place but holding him close, and Obi-Wan suddenly finds himself kissing _back_ with just as much fierceness.

One hand buries itself in Serenus’ long hair, tugging hard, while the other wraps around the Sith Lord’s waist and presses them close, closer, the closest they could possibly be.

Obi-Wan slides his hand beneath Serenus’s sash, loosening it enough that it falls from his hips in a ripple of dark fabric.

Serenus starts tugging open Rako Hardeen’s fur-lined vest completely open next, impatient sounds escaping him until Obi-Wan bats his hands away and undoes the clips himself. The gauntlets around his wrists come off next, hitting the grated floor with a dull thunk, followed by the gloves, and then the armoured turtleneck beneath.

When Obi-Wan finishes pulling that over his head, he tosses it to the floor, and looks up to meet Serenus’s eyes staring down at him, hungrily. They’re a more brilliant, blinding gold than Obi-Wan has ever seen.

Serenus is still pulling his undertunic open as he dips his head and devours Obi-Wan’s mouth once more. He eventually manages to tug the tunic off, and presses himself against Obi-Wan, thick arms winding around him.

There’s something ugly and addicting about the way their teeth clash together, hot tongues winding and twisting, and bare chests sliding and pushing and rubbing against one another.

A weight presses into Obi-Wan’s stomach, and suddenly he’s pushed to the floor of the cell. The cold metal digs painfully into his back, but Obi-Wan ignores it as he wraps his arms and still covered legs around Serenus and deepens their kiss.

Obi-Wan’s member strains against the confines of his trousers. Almost painful when the upper part of Serenus’s thigh accidentally rubs against it.

They both pull away for breath, panting heavily. Hot breath washes over Obi-Wan’s skin as Serenus tilts back a fraction, admiring Obi-Wan with hooded eyes. He isn’t moving, and the kiss-bruised lips, the mussed hair, and the very _obvious_ erection tenting the front of the Sith’s black leggings causes Obi-Wan’s cock to jut even higher. He lets out a low keen.

Leaning down to lick stripes up his neck, Serenus doesn’t need any more encouragement than that to loosen the belt around Obi-Wan’s hips, and shove a hand deep into his trousers.

He rubs the pad of his thumb against the wet head of Obi-Wan’s cock, and Obi-Wan knows neither of them are going to last long now. It’s been too long since they’ve touched; too long since they’ve been this close. Obi-Wan bucks into his hand, eyes shutting and lights flashing on the back of his eyelids.

Serenus squeezes him gently and licks one small nipple. Obi-Wan arches beneath him, against the hot mouth now trailing down his stomach, the long brown hair mercilessly teasing the pale skin. Serenus pulls back, a wistful smile spreading across his face.

“Come for me, Obi-Wan.”

Obi-Wan releases a pent-up groan and thrusts quicker. His hands come up to grasp Serenus’s tattooed biceps, just for something hold onto, as he clenches his jaw and rides out his orgasm.

A name slips past his gritted teeth, harsh and low as he grinds upwards, faster and faster.

“Qui-Gon. Qui-Go-agh. Nngh. Qui-Gon. _Qui-Gon!”_

Serenus remains as steady as a stone, murmuring soft encouragement until Obi-Wan falls apart beneath him, coming messily in his trousers.

“Good boy.” Serenus growls against his neck, his hips jerking, rubbing his still-clothed erection against Obi-Wan as the younger man’s breathing slows and his body sags down from exhaustion.

Obi-Wan snaps his eyes open, and as his lust-muddled thoughts finally manage to congeal into some semblance of a shield, he feels two rough fingers -- still wet and warm from his own orgasm -- press against his lips.

It’s harder than usual for Obi-Wan to look at the shadow that had been his former master, but when he does he’s treated to a Serenus with his mask just barely skewed. There is a flush on his skin, strands of dark hair sticking to his forehead with sweat. He winces and groans when Obi-Wan’s knee twitches against his crotch.

Obi-Wan sucks the fingers into his mouth without a word, his tongue sliding around the digits. He tastes himself, a salty bitterness that quickly dissolves in his mouth. The groan that escapes Serenus is thick and clotted and not at all controlled. Even the firm pressure against Obi-Wan’s shields subsides for a moment as he ruts against Obi-Wan’s leg.

Obi-Wan wishes to keep it that way. He reaches up and grasps Serenus’ wrist, allowing the two fingers to slip out of his mouth with a moist _pop_ before wrapping his lips around two more. When those are licked clean, he moves to the thumb, and then to sloppy, licking kisses across the interlacing of black tattoos on the back of Serenus’ palm.

The pressure on his shields is growing fainter and fainter, until Obi-Wan makes the mistake of attempting to add a further layer to his shields. There is a tremble in the Force, and the hand leaves Obi-Wan’s grasp to grip his jaw and squeeze.

Serenus grins at him, all teeth, eyes flashing as the constant pressure returns to Obi-Wan’s shields.

“Don’t hide yourself from me, my love.” he says. “I want to see every part of you.”

It doesn’t take long for Serenus to come after that; sharp, shallow breaths punctuating the air of the cell. He leans down to catch Obi-Wan’s mouth in a kiss as he rolls his hips against him. Obi-Wan kisses him back, even as his mind fights against him. _What are doing what are you doing what are you doing?_ This wasn’t what he was supposed to be doing. There was something else, something…

Obi-Wan lifts his arms and pushes the Sith Lord away from him. Serenus still crowds his personal space, but obediently leans away at Obi-Wan’s touch.

“What the hells are we doing?” Obi-Wan asks.

Serenus uses one hand to push a wayward strand of hair behind his ear, and gives Obi-Wan a thoughtful look. “It hasn’t been long enough that you’ve forgotten what sex is, has it?”

Obi-Wan presses his lips together into a deep frown that crinkles his nose. “Don’t patronize me. _What_ are we doing?”

“What you want,” Serenus says simply. “I only do what you want, Obi-Wan.”

Those words make Obi-Wan’s blood run cold, quick as an echo. The way Serenus says them makes them sound rote. Practiced. Wrong. “Do you mean that?”

Something twitches in Serenus’s gaze, subtle and nearly unnoticeable, but Obi-Wan feels it in the Force. For a moment, it feels like someone is there with them, looking at him through Serenus’s eyes.

Then it’s gone, and Serenus is leaning down to rest his forehead against Obi-Wan’s, eyes closed.

“Of course,” he purrs.

Slowly, Obi-Wan moves himself up and out from beneath Serenus. When he’s fully sitting up, he raises a hand and places it against Serenus’s cheek. Serenus leans into the touch.

“Let me go,” Obi-Wan says, his tone level. He doesn’t move, and raises his shields once more.

Serenus’s eyes crack half open and flick up to gaze at Obi-Wan as he continues to lean into the hand against his cheek, like a giant cat wanting to be petted.

“Once you accept my gift,” he says. “I will.”

***

Serenus's terms are simple. He'll be giving Obi-Wan a Sith tattoo.

The first needle pierces his flesh, and Obi-Wan doesn’t feel any pain. It’s only when the ink is released the he shudders and presses his face against Serenus’ shoulder, mouth agape in a silent yell.

It burns, like liquid fire sliding beneath his skin. Serenus holds Obi-Wan steady as he fills the needle and slides it in once more. Tears begin to prickle behind Obi-Wan’s eyes.

“This ink is venom from a certain type of Sith insect,” Serenus explains casually, as if it were nothing more than a simple lesson in the Crèche. “That’s why it hurts so much.”

“Doesn’t hurt at all.”

Serenus’ chest vibrates with a chuckle as another needle sinks in, releasing its toxic contents.

“Then it shouldn’t be an issue to cover your entire body with them, should it?”

Obi-Wan’s breath catches, and Serenus pats him gently.

“I’m kidding, Obi-Wan. This will be the only one.”

Dip, slide in, release. Dip, slide in, release. Obi-Wan begins to fall into the rhythm, rocking against Serenus each time the needle is pulled out. The toxin seems to be making him light-headed. He wonders how long it will take the Jedi Temple to properly remove this thing.

“Almost finished,” Serenus assures him, softly.

Obi-Wan glances down at Serenus’s ungloved hand as it moves in a familiar dance to fill the needle with the nightmare-black ink. The jagged tattoos crisscrossing the back of his hand continue up and beneath his sleeve. Obi-Wan has seen them many times and knows the way they travel up his arm and curl onto his back in strange and mysterious shapes, but he has yet to learn of their origin.

“How did...you do...yours?” Obi-Wan finds himself asking, his head pulsing with each syllable.

“I didn’t,” says Serenus, dabbing away the blood and excess ink on Obi-Wan’s back with a cold cloth before continuing again. “My Master did.”

Obi-Wan’s mind churns. “Then why doesn’t Dooku have any?”

The Sith Lord finally sets the tattooing implement down for good, and pulls Obi-Wan back, smiling warmly. There’s something else in that smile as well, something that Obi-Wan cannot quite figure out.

“Who says he doesn’t?”

Obi-Wan hisses as Serenus lays his large hands across his shoulder blades, and a searing wave of almost-healing burns across his skin, more numbing than it is soothing.

“There, we’re finished,” Serenus says, his hand lingering on Obi-Wan’s back. “That wasn’t quite so terrible, now was it?”

[Obi-Wan's Sith Tattoo by lacefedora](http://lacefedora.tumblr.com/)

***

It’s nearing the crack of dawn on Serenno, bathing the landscape in a grey kind of twilight. It would have been quite beautiful, if it had been appreciated by anyone other than Cad Bane.

Cad had long since broken away from Aurra, who had smiled and let him go as soon as the first blaster bolt had echoed around the estate. By the time Cad had gotten back to the hedge, he’d found no trace of Hardeen or Eval, aside from one discarded blaster.

Now he sits beside the shuttle meant to take them to Naboo, along with the rest of the bounty hunters. When the sun just begins to crest over the top of the tallest tower of Dooku’s estate, the Count himself appears. He lacks his usual droid escort, and appears far angrier than he had been before.

Trailing behind him with his face covered in drying blood and blossoming bruises is Eval. He looks up as Cad stares at him, bares his teeth and continues to shuffle inside Dooku’s shadow.

Dooku comes to a stop before them all and makes a point of looking at Cad. “Cad Bane,” he says in his usual clipped drawl. “You will lead this operation. The rest of you are now working under him, including you, Eval.”

Eval nods, and Cad begins to wonder if Hardeen had managed to bruise his jaw shut or something.

“Alright, I kindly accept.” Cad casts his gaze around the landing pad, taking in the reaction of each of the other bounty hunters. None of them show signs of protesting, and Cad turns his gaze back on Dooku. “But what about Hardeen?”  
  
“Rako Hardeen is no longer a part of this operation,” replies Dooku, coldly. With his hands behind his back, he struts ahead of the bounty hunters towards the ship that will be taking them to Naboo. At the loading dock, he looks over his shoulder at Bane. “Hardeen was unnecessary to this mission, and was taken care of accordingly.”   
  
“Called it,” Aurra announces with prideful, little smirk.   
  
There’s quiet discussion among the rest of group. Most of them sound surprised. Not even Bane can fully believe that Dooku would have chosen Hardeen to be cast aside, not after he’d had saved Cad’s skinny blue ass in The Box and more times in the past few day cycles than anyone had in years. But none of them say a word.   
  
Bane plucks a toothpick from the box at his hip and rolls it between two fingers.   
  
“Sounds a bit outlandish,” he says. “He was one of the best people here.”   
  
“And will that be a problem?” Dooku asks, staring unblinkingly down at Cad.   
  
_Problem? Almost,_ but for the first time since taking this job, Cad bites back his arguments. Credits have always been worth more than a friend. Always will be. Tipping the brim of his hat once, Cad doesn’t mention it again as he ascends into the belly of the ship.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Sith tattoos really are made with poison from bugs. How metal is that?  
> *Lacefedora was kind and awesome enough to actually design the tattoo Serenus gives Obi-Wan in place of completely reinstating their old bond. Nice, huh?  
> *Obi-Wan should not just assume Sith tattoos come off easily. Silly bean.  
> *YAY WE'RE GETTING TO NABOO WHICH SHOULD BE FUN. Bwahaha  
> *Next chapter on Sunday Sunday Sunday (though tbh, and no, person who would undoubtedly say so, this isn't me hOldINg mY fIc hOstAgE _*insert Spongebob meme here*_ , I will probably do an early extra update if it reaches 1k kudos before Sunday. I just can't be like 'Oh huh 1000 kudos. Cool' Nah, that is definitely celebration worthy.)  
> *Still can't quite believe it's that close to begin with. Cue the hyperventilating freakoutedness!


	22. Crisis, Part 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things. Stuff. A colorful array of both. Buy two Stuffs and get one Thing half off!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really don't have an excuse for the week delay for this chapter, so I'm not even gonna bother talking about it. Let's get to the cool stuff, like the fact that THIS FIC REACHED 1000 KUDOS!!!!!!!!!!!!!
> 
> I'm at a loss for words when it comes to that. Loss as in there's so many things I want to say, and I'm getting lost trying to sort through the jumbled mess. So I'll just go with thank you. Thank you for reading this fic. Thank you for supporting it with your kind words and little button pressing. Thank you for absolutely blowing my expectations for anything I create clear into Outer Space. Thank you for getting me to 1000 kudos, something that has never happened before and that I can only hope and work hard to have happen again.
> 
> Thank you, for everything. There's so much more that I'd like to say, some of it that I just don't know how to put words to, but first and foremost, for always and forever, thank you.
> 
> Let's keep the ball rolling, then, shall we?
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> -Pop
> 
> PS: Lots of people gave this chapter a look-over before posting. I could name them all, but I don't know how they individually feel about that (note to self, ask), so for now I'll just offer up group gratitude to them!

The sun is just beginning to set across the lavish landscape of Naboo’s capital city as their ship brings itself to a landing in a plaza close to Theed palace. Lights already illuminate the tops and sides of buildings, and by the time night falls Theed will look just like the starry sky high above. Anakin spots Padmé, Sio Bibble, and Queen Neeyutnee awaiting them as they disembark from the ship, and his heart does a small leap of joy at the sight of his wife.

Two Clone guards disembark first, followed by the Chancellor and his political advisor, Mas Amedda. The Chagrian’s staff hits the flagstones of the plaza with loud, sharp _tinks._  Master Windu goes after them, followed by Anakin and Ahsoka and two more clone guards.

Queen Neeyutnee is small, even next to Padmé. Anakin wouldn’t be surprised if she’s Ahsoka’s age, perhaps even younger. Yet despite her obvious youth, she holds herself with the air of practiced royalty. The young queen bows her head at the Chancellor, as does her Advisor.

“Greetings, Supreme Chancellor,” the Queen says in a soft voice. “It is an honor to have you with us on such a celebrated day.”

“Greetings, your majesty,” The Chancellor says with an equally polite incline of his head. “Despite how things may appear, Naboo is still my home and her culture my culture. Nothing could keep me from it.”

The Queen’s lips curve up subtly, her face still a passive, painted mask. Anakin can’t help but wonder if this is truly the Queen, or one of her many Handmaidens. His gaze doesn’t stay long on the little Queen, however, traveling to her left instead.

Padmé smiles at Anakin once, which earns a subtle jab from Ahsoka’s elbow in his side. Anakin ignores it and smiles back.

“Welcome home, Chancellor,” Padmé says brightly. “I’m thankful to the Jedi for bringing you here safely.”

The Chancellor heaves a sigh. “Yes, Senator. It is good to be back. Although I think the amount of security that has accompanied me is... overkill.”

Beside the Chancellor, Master Windu’s jaw tenses in long frustration. “With all due respect, Chancellor, where your safety is concerned there is no such thing as overkill.”

“So you keep insisting, Master Jedi,” The Chancellor says with a fake smile. “But I’ve grown tired of discussing it.”

The look on Master Windu’s face screams _that makes two of us_ , but he doesn’t say a word as the Chancellor turns on his heel and begins to make his way to the palace with Mas Amedda all but glued to his side. Padmé gives Anakin an apologetic frown, but he just waves it off with a hand. They’d been at each other’s throats since they’d boarded the transport on Coruscant.

Padmé falls into step beside Anakin and Ahsoka behind the rest of their entourage. Before they move too far, Anakin leans down and explains everything about Obi-Wan to Padmé in soft, hushed tones.

May not be the smartest thing to do in the middle of a crowded plaza, but his wife deserves to know.

When he’s finished explaining, Padmé's expression hasn’t changed. She reaches up and adjusts the silver crescent holding her hair in place and says, calmly, “And there’s been no word from him in days?”

“No,” Anakin says, slightly surprised by the fact that Padmé doesn’t seem angry about the fact that Obi-Wan lied to all of them. “Master Windu thinks he’s been captured.”

That earns him a wide-eyed look from Ahsoka, but she doesn’t say a word. Anakin feels her prod at their bond, though, and he responds reassuringly. _Later, Snips._

A tightness around Padmé's mouth is the only sign that those words have affected her. “If that is the case, I don’t doubt that Obi-Wan will find a way to free himself. Even Qui-Gon Jinn couldn’t keep him locked up for long.”

Her words are full of complete, unbreakable confidence. They’re enough to even assure Anakin that Obi-Wan will be alright, even if he doesn’t know that for sure. Padmé has that effect on him -- on anyone, really. When she says something, people believe her.

The fact that she still refuses to call Serenus by anything other than his given name is enough to make Anakin grin. Force, he loves her.

Their exchange seems to have attracted attention, though. A few paces ahead of them, Master Windu is giving them a subtle glare over his shoulder.

Padmé follows Anakin’s line of sight, and expertly changes the subject.

“I’m glad to have you two here. Welcome to the festival,” she says, placing a hand on Anakin’s arm and then Ahsoka’s. Her smile is warm and genuine.

“I’ve never seen the Festival of Light,” Ahsoka says, her gaze wandering around to take in the different lights set up around the plaza. The small orbs glisten with a bright, gold-white light above the heads of passerby, dipping and bobbing with the gentle evening breeze. “Sounds like a big event.”

“They’re expecting a large crowd,” Anakin adds in, looking at Padmé. “Which means it will be difficult for Dooku to attack during the ceremony. That leaves the palace as the best opportunity for an ambush.”

Padmé's eyes narrow minutely, and her voice becomes determined and protective. “Are you that certain an attack is imminent?”

“I’m afraid so,” says Anakin. “Which is why I’m making Ahsoka your personal bodyguard.”

Ahsoka grins at Padmé. “At your service, my lady.”

“If there’s trouble, Ahsoka will get you, the queen, and the rest of your staff to safety.”

“What about you?” Padmé asks, worry forming a line between her eyebrows.

Anakin shrugs. “Hopefully I’ll be where I always am.”

Ahsoka snorts, grinning widely at Padmé. “He means saving the day.”

“Of course he does,” Padmé says with a roll of her eyes.

***

It takes some time for Obi-Wan to fully comprehend the fact that he’s sitting half-naked across Serenus’s lap, leaning against the Sith for support as the tattoo on his back seems to burn into his very bones. He blames exhaustion, he blames whatever poison was in the ink that Serenus had used to tattoo him, and he blames the fact that when it comes to Serenus, he never quite has complete control of himself.

 _You’re a prisoner, don’t forget,_ Obi-Wan reminds himself tartly.

“Please tell me you have a bed we can go to,” he hears himself saying, his tone slow and tired.

Serenus blinks at him, and then hefts Obi-Wan up in his arms as he stands abruptly. He places Obi-Wan on his feet, and then grasps one of his hands tightly.

They leave through the door of the cell, and the outside hall is almost immediately different. Thick, maroon carpet covers the floor, and pilasters rise out of the walls, their plinths carved with fanciful, articulate moldings. Above those, lights burn white in detailed sconces.

Obi-Wan can feel some of the fog in his mind dissipating the longer he’s out of that blasted cell.

“It’s a shame the torture room is so ugly,” he says, and Serenus chuckles at him.

Serenus leads him down the long hallway until they get to a large set of doors. A keypad is located on the wall beside it, and Serenus inputs the strokes with one hand. The door slides open with a soft click, and Serenus walks through it, his hand still entwined with Obi-Wan’s. On the other side is a small room with multiple hallways and a turbolift leading off of it.

They’re two steps from the turbolift when a magnaguard enters the room from one of the adjoining hallways.

The magnaguard’s electrostaff sizzles to life.

“Lord Serenus, the prisoner has escaped,” it drones out in a low voice. “I shall eliminate them for you.”

Serenus sends the droid careening into a wall with a wave of his hand, not bothering to even give it a glance. The flattens against the wall and falls to the carpeted floor in a shower of sparks and oil.

“I hope you know I’ll get in rather big trouble for that,” Serenus says, thin lips twisting up into a calm smile. “Jard detests when I break his things.”

They board the turbolift without any other interruptions.

Once they’re inside Serenus’s bedroom, Obi-Wan finds that his exhaustion is gone. Want burns in his gut, warm and heavy. He looks at Serenus and wets his lips. They pull away from each other long enough to tug off boots and belts and trousers, and then Obi-Wan spreads his palms flat across Serenus’s chest and pushes him onto the low, round bed.

Serenus lands among the soft blankets and pillows and all but pulls Obi-Wan after him. Obi-Wan resists long enough to perch his hips atop Serenus’s, before moving forward until his knees are on either side of Serenus’s chest. Serenus smile wide enough to make his eyes squint, and plants a quick kiss on the tip of Obi-Wan’s cock.

“Come here,” he says, bringing one tattooed hand up and tugging lightly on Obi-Wan’s arm until he complies and leans forward enough that Serenus can kiss his lips instead. When they break apart again, Serenus’s eyes are darting around as he takes in Obi-Wan’s face.

“Yes, I know. I don’t look like I’ve aged a day,” Obi-Wan says, deadpan.

“That isn’t it,” Serenus replies softly. He reaches up, and his fingers ghost over the bruises still decorating Obi-Wan’s face, just short of touching. Obi-Wan winces. It’s a shame that facial reconstruction couldn’t take care of wounds beneath the surface.

“Jard told me that Moralo Eval did this,” says Serenus, a controlled hint of fury in his tone.

“You should see how bad he looks,” Obi-Wan replies, turning his face away just enough to hide the bruises. “Don’t tell me you plan on killing him now?”

“Would you rather I didn’t?”

“I would rather not be the reason for more death.”

Serenus’s fingers come to rest on Obi-Wan’s jaw, the pads pressing gently until he’s facing Serenus once more. “I would teach him a lesson in not taking what doesn’t belong to him.”

Obi-Wan’s mouth tenses into a frown. “I am not _your_ property.”

“I never said that you were,” Serenus’s fingers slide down until his hand is cupping Obi-Wan’s throat. His palm is warm. “He shouldn’t have attempted to take anything from _you._ ”

Serenus cranes his head forward and presses his lips to Obi-Wan’s again. The hand around Obi-Wan’s neck slides around until it’s grasping just below the base of his skull, holding him gently in place.

Obi-Wan opens his mouth to Serenus’s tongue, his eyelids lowering as Serenus explores every crevice of his mouth, sliding along his teeth and around his tongue.

That thin connection between them pulses, enlarging like a bug consuming blood, and Obi-Wan catches a snippet of Serenus’s thoughts slipping into his mind.

_I would keep you here forever, my Obi-Wan._

Obi-Wan’s eyes snap open, and he finds Serenus’s still closed as they continue to kiss. He doesn’t pull away, but his eyes cast about the room and land upon Serenus’s lightsaber laying atop the nightstand.

_Stay with me, my Obi-Wan. Stay with me._

Obi-Wan’s heart hammers in his chest, a dull staccato. He wonders if Serenus can feel it. If the Sith Lord can, he doesn’t show it. He only continues to kiss Obi-Wan, pressing every part of him that he can against Obi-Wan.

Serenus’s thoughts continue on that same track, begging and pleading and pulling, and it twists Obi-Wan’s stomach. Before he really understands why, he calls Serenus’s lightsaber to his hand. The hilt slaps into his palm.

Obi-Wan ignites the lightsaber, holding the searing red blade across Serenus’s throat.

The Sith Lord’s breathing doesn’t change at all, his chest still rising and falling at the same speed between Obi-Wan’s bare thighs.

Serenus doesn’t even bother to look at the blade when he opens his eyes. He only stares at Obi-Wan.

“And here I thought you actually wanted to have sex with me.”

 _The sad part is, I do._ Obi-Wan’s frown stretches lower and he can’t help but be vividly reminded of where he is, and on _whom._ Serenus laughs slightly, shifting a bit on the bedsheets. His hands come to rest idly on Obi-Wan’s backside, thumbs pressing against the dimples above his arse.

“You still do, dearheart?”

“Don’t.” Obi-Wan warns.

Serenus raises his eyebrows innocently. “Don’t what?”

“Don’t call me that,” Obi-Wan says, the words anchoring his tongue down. “Do not act like you’re still the man I once loved.”

The hands around his buttocks tighten, and Obi-Wan is dragged back sharply as Serenus sits up. He’s ensconced in the Sith Lord’s lap now, legs wrapped around Serenus’s waist and their cocks sliding against each other with each breath.

Obi-Wan regains himself in half of a second, and angles the crimson-red blade beneath Serenus’s chin once more.

“I am still Qui-Gon Jinn, Obi-Wan,” Serenus says, with impeccable calm. “Simply more refined.”

“Qui-Gon was a good man. A noble man. You’re nothing more than a wretch of the Dark Side,” Obi-Wan doesn’t bother to keep the vitriol out of his voice, “Not even fit to call yourself his shadow.”

“And yet here you are. In bed, naked and willing,” Serenus smirks down at him, strands of long hair falling over golden eyes. “With the wretch.”

Frustration bubbles up inside Obi-Wan’s mind, harsh and searing, and he knows Serenus senses it, too. He leans forward, and Obi-Wan finds himself pulling the lightsaber away to keep from burning his throat. Blast it all. _Blast this man!_

Serenus tilts his head and smiles. His eyes are like candle-flames, golden-orange melting into white, with the softest reflection of red from the lightsaber in them.

“I should be the one that’s angry,” Serenus notes simply as he moves one hand up along the bumps of Obi-Wan’s spine. “You’re the one that pretended to die.”

Obi-Wan’s eyes narrow minutely. “I’m shocked you even care. After what happened on Toydaria--”

“Toydaria was a misunderstanding,” Serenus interrupts, the smile from his face gone and replaced with a tight frown.

“You tried to _kill me,_ ” Obi-Wan points out. _“_ Frankly, it’s difficult to see a misunderstanding in that.”

“In all fairness, you tried to kill me first.”

Obi-Wan’s knuckles go white around the hilt of Serenus’s lightsaber. Serenus’s hand had reached the tattoo now, hovering just above the tender skin. Yet it feels like the lines of the tattoo are moving, reaching for his fingers. It’s a pull that feels as strong as the Force. “Enough of this,” he says in a short, tired voice. “ _Enough._ I have accepted your bloody tattoo gift, you are not getting past my shields. Bring me a decent change of clothes, show me to the transport, and let us part our blasted ways.” He accentuates his words by pressing Serenus’s lightsaber close enough to his former master’s skin that the heat alone must hurt.

The hand on his back suddenly moves away. As Obi-Wan watches, Serenus brings his palm to the point of the lightsaber blade and wraps his hand around it. Slowly, but surely, he pushes down on the blade until it’s returned completely from whence it came, then he takes the hilt out of Obi-Wan’s hand and places it back on the nightstand. When he meets Obi-Wan’s flabbergasted expression, his eyes are full and pain and regret.

“I believed you to be dead, Obi-Wan. Do you have any idea how that felt?”

Obi-Wan stares directly at him. “No, I haven’t the foggiest how it must feel to believe my bondmate is dead. At least I didn’t decide to disappear for over a decade, and return as a Sith Lord.”

Serenus blinks at the blatant sarcasm, and then squeezes his eyes shut with a visible wince.

“I walked right into that one, didn’t I?”

Obi-Wan sighs and presses his face into Serenus’s throat. “More like sprinted directly into it.”

Serenus lets out a long, low sigh, and plants one last kiss on Obi-Wan’s forehead before pulling himself out of the bed. Obi-Wan’s eyes travel from the tattoos spiraling around Serenus’s shoulder blades down the length of his back -- riddled with more scars than he’d ever had as Qui-Gon Jinn.

“I don’t have any Jedi robes,” Serenus says as he brushes his hair out of his face and turns around. He opts out of a tunic, and his chest and stomach are just as scarred as his back. A lump forms in Obi-Wan’s throat at the sight. All this time, and he’s never asked about them. That’s one thing you learn in war: asking about scars isn’t polite.

Then again, none of this situation screams _politeness necessary._

Obi-Wan props himself up on one elbow, facing Serenus.

“How did you get them?” He asks, gesturing at his own chest and belly.

Serenus glances down at himself, and then smiles. It’s a knife-gash smile, sharp and dangerous.

“You.”

Obi-Wan doesn’t allow any reaction to show on his face. “Just get me some clothes, please.”

***

Landing on Naboo is far simpler than Cad was expecting. They reach it just on the cusp of evening, and as Dooku has their hired pilot talk them through the outer city shields, Cad prepares himself mentally for the mission to come. He’s nearly out of toothpicks by the time their spacecraft lands among a small group of warehouses.

Dooku kills the hired pilot, and then has the rest of them kill the workers in the warehouses. All in all, it doesn’t take more than five minutes, but Cad still appreciates it. Something about this mission makes his skin crawl, and killing a few sorry sons of skugs definitely helps take his mind off of it.

Once the warehouses are clear, Dooku has them gather around a small table in one building. He looks at each of them sternly, and then says,

“Your mission will begin soon. I suggest you listen to what your leader has to say.”

The way he says that makes it sounds like he assumes that Cad has no idea what he’s doing, and that Dooku himself will have to explain things further. Cad keeps his eyes from rolling. He’s on a job, best to be _professional._

He pulls out multiple personalized datapads and hands them out.

“Each of these has instructions as well as maps for your part in this job,” he says. “Follow it to the letter, or the Republic’ll be the last thing ya need to worry about.”

Across the table, Aurra turns on her datapad and skims it. She looks up with one elegant eyebrow raised.

“You gonna tell us how all our parts fit together?” she asks.

“Derrown will breach the shield around the celebration platform, Eval is the getaway driver, Embo,and Twazzi will act as guards protecting the Chancellor, and you, Aurra…” Cad reaches to the case at his feet and puts it on the table. Aurra’s eyes light up in delight when she sees it. “Are the sniper. That’s all ya need to know.”

“That’s all I _want_ to know,” Aurra says, pulling the case over and snapping the latches open. “I’m going to have a great time.”

Cad crosses his arms at that. Aurra Sing’s glee when it comes to killing will definitely make this interesting. If he’d had any other choice, he wouldn’t put her in such a position, but seeing as Hardeen isn’t with them anymore, well.

“When the job’s done, the devices will lead you to the rendezvous point. Any questions?” he asks. Nobody responds. Perfect. Cad nods. “Now for our disguises.”

He pulls out a device from the bag at his side. It’s half a sphere set into a flat, metal disk, and he sets it carefully on the table like it’s made of glass. He still isn’t quite sure how these disguise matrixes work, and he’d rather not have one explode in his hand because he decided to be too rough. It makes him slightly regret that Sinrich didn’t survive The Box.

“Everyone, step back,” Cad orders. Everyone obliges, even Count Dooku.

The top of the half-sphere lights up, and beams of blue holo-light shoot out from it. At each corner of the table that the disguise matrix is set on, a set of full Nubian guard armor stand at attention.

“These will get us into the inner circle,” Cad says, gesturing one hand. “Step into the shadow hologram and you will receive your new identity.”

The holograms whirl and warble as four of the bounty hunters step into them, but they stick. Even Derrown manages to look humanoid within the armor.

“When you leave here, you’ll have no communication with the rest of the team,” Cad continues. “Understand? Good. Now get to your positions. We don’t have very long ‘fore the ceremony starts.”

They all break apart without another word, and if there’s one thing Cad loves about other bounty hunters, it’s the fact that when it’s time for a job, they shut up and act. Aurra hefts her sniper case and winks and Cad. He doesn’t wink back. The only other reaction of note is Eval’s: he bares his teeth at his instructions, but goes nonetheless. Cad isn’t worried that he’ll bail -- Eval is a coward, which means he’s perfect to put in charge of running away.

Once they are all gone, Dooku steps up beside Cad.

“Well handled,” he says. “I should have put you in charge long ago.”

Cad sticks his fingers into his box of toothpicks. There's only one left.

“You’re right,” he agrees.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Some lines taken from the Clone Wars episode "Crisis on Naboo" (Season 4 Episode 18)  
> *The Force power that Serenus uses to push the lightsaber blade back into the hilt is called Tutaminis. Silly name for a nifty trick. Wonder where he could have possibly learned that from... _*subtly kicks Future Plot beneath the couch*_  
>  *So The Festival of Light on Naboo is a celebration of Naboo joining the Republic. The one happening in this episode specifically is the eight hundred and forty-seventh one! Long ass time, huh? Anyways, personally, the Festival of Light I show in this fic leans more towards the real life Hindu Festival of Lights known as Diwali. As the wikipedia article so prettily puts: _“...it spiritually signifies the victory of light over darkness, good over evil, knowledge over ignorance, and hope over despair. Its celebration includes millions of lights shining on housetops, outside doors and windows, around temples and other buildings in the communities and countries where it is observed”_. I dunno about you, but that sorta thing just screams Naboo to me so, whoo! Thank you real life for awesome things like this!  
>  *Next update should be Mondayish.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Frozen Trees OR Yoda's line, especially Obi-Wan, are made for suffering.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7344661) by [HellsBellsSinClub](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HellsBellsSinClub/pseuds/HellsBellsSinClub)




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